


All But The Brightest Stars

by useyrwordsderek



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Angst, BAMF Stiles, Derek's family is only alive in the first chapter, Derek’s mom babysits Stiles, Derek’s mom is Alpha, Explicit in later chapters, First Time, M/M, Oh Sheriff Stilinksi you are the actual BEST, Other Additional Tags to Be Added in later chapters, Possessive!Derek, Protective!Derek, Scent Marking, Scott is the biggest puppy ever, Slow Build, UST, WIP, canon AU, canon compliant violence/gore, first chapter is pre-Hale fire, fix it with fic, it’s hard to be sad when there’s a Stiles, life tip: don’t wake werewolves when they’re having a nightmare, starts with kid Stiles and teenager Derek, why do I always write a novel in the notes?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-05 23:13:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/728992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/useyrwordsderek/pseuds/useyrwordsderek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek Hale met Stiles Stilinski when Stiles was six years old and Derek was sixteen, when Derek’s mother babysat Stiles after Stiles’ mom died.  They didn't see each other again until Scott McCall was turned, ten years later.</p><p>In which Derek and Stiles both have to become a little less broken before they can help each other and themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I messed with the canon timeline and character ages a little bit for this. Stiles is six and Derek sixteen when the fire happens, and Season 1 of the canon show would start 10 years later. So Stiles is sixteen and Derek 26 when they meet back up. NOTE: although this has the underage tag and is rated explicit for later chapters, I want it to be clear from the beginning that absolutely nothing of a sexual nature happens in the first chapter of this story, when Stiles is a small child. The underage tag and rating are for when they meet back up, when Stiles is sixteen. 
> 
> The title is from a quote by JRR Tolkein: “Moonlight drowns out all but the brightest stars.” 
> 
> The story is plotted in its entirety and I expect to update it very regularly.

Yellow light poured through the big bay window of the living room of the Hale house as Derek crunched along the gravel drive. He sighed, bracing himself, then mounted the steps to the porch and opened the door.

“I’m not sure I can even express how good your excuse had better be for this,” his mother said, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“It’s not that late,” Derek protested, immediately defensive. He tried to remember when everything his mom said had started to irritate him and make him feel guilty at the same time. 

“It is _two a.m._ , Derek. And you are _sixteen years old_. Where the _hell_ have you been?” 

He recognized that tone, knew her eyes would be glowing red if he looked up at her, so he kept his eyes plastered to the floor, turning his head slightly to bare his neck. “Just...out.” He studied the worn wool rug, how the fringe at the edge splayed across the wide oak boards of the floor. The fireplace crackling in the corner cast a warm golden glow onto the old planks, worn smooth by many generations of Hale feet. 

“Really? That’s what I get? That’s all you’ve got?” Her normally gentle voice was overlayed with a growling sub-bass echo. 

“Yes, Mom! That’s all I’ve got!” Derek was pissed off then and raised his voice, though he still didn’t raise his eyes.

“Keep your voice down, the children are all sleeping,” his mother snapped. 

There were generally a lot of children in the house. In addition to the pack kids, his mother ran a babysitting service out of the house. In fact, there was a little one sleeping on the couch right then, curled into an impossibly tiny ball under a crocheted blanket, and a baby sleeping in a crib on the other side of the room. 

The anger suddenly dropped from his mother’s voice. “Derek, you know you can talk to me, right? I’m not just your mom, I’m your Alpha. I’ll listen, whatever it is.”

The shame washed over him then, the shame he always felt when he stumbled out of the back of _her_...Kate’s... car afterwards, her mocking laughter following him into the night air...finding a stream to clean himself in before he made his way home, washing her scent off his hands and chest and genitals...lying in bed watching the darkness until dawn came, remembering the feel of her hands on his throat, the way she teased him while he was inside her: _Think you can keep from coming in 30 seconds this time, little man?_

He shuddered inwardly, almost cringing from the shame. “It’s nothing, Mom. Just...running. In the woods. Blowing off steam.” He breathed deeply, willing his heart rate to remain steady.

She sighed. She wasn’t fooled, and he knew it. “I’m going to tell your father about this,” she said. He risked a look up at her, because that was a peace offering. If there was any hard-core discipline coming, it was coming from her, not his dad. Her eyes were blue again, and she twisted her mouth at him in a wry approximation of a smile. She’d been young when she’d had him and Laura, and she was still very beautiful. Laura looked so much like her they were often mistaken for sisters. 

He looked away, feeling totally unworthy of her forgiveness, and his gaze fell on the kid sleeping on the couch. “Who’s that one? He’s new.” Derek drifted across the room and looked at the boy. He was a wisp of a kid, skinny and pale. Moles dotted lightly across his face and down his throat. 

“That’s Sheriff Stilinski’s little boy, he calls himself Stiles.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “His mom died, last month. The Sheriff had to go back on night shifts this week, so he needed a place for Stiles to stay while he’s at work.”

“That sucks,” Derek breathed. “How did she...?”

“Cancer,” his mom said. “It was a bad way to die.”

Derek reached down and folded a corner of the blanket under the kid’s chin, making sure he was well tucked in. “How old is he?”

“He’s six. It will be good for Tom to have him around. And I hope it will be good for Stiles to be around other kids.” Derek nodded. Tom was four, his cousin Ben’s youngest, a born werewolf, and he’d be starting school the following year. He needed to get acclimatized to being around human kids who didn’t know the family secret, and it was a good idea to start them early. It was the whole reason his mom had started the babysitting business in the first place, so they could eventually send the pack kids off to school, safe and prepared to hide what they needed to hide. 

Of course, it turned out that there weren’t enough children in Beacon Hills, possibly the world, to satisfy his mom’s gigantic maternal instinct. Sometimes, female Alphas were much like males: hunting, fighting, protecting their pack, and leaving the more domestic issues to their betas. And Derek’s mom was more than capable of that when the need came. But sometimes, the burden of being responsible for a whole pack’s needs translated for a female into an unquenchable desire to raise the pack’s young in perfect, pure safety. Those kinds of female Alphas channeled all of their strength and fierce protectiveness into love for their kids. And Derek’s mom extended that love to all the children in her care.

Derek had been raised bathed in that love, luxuriating in the knowledge that nothing bad could ever happen to him. It was only lately, since he met _her_ , that the grip of that total devotion had started to chafe, to feel suffocating. But in that moment, looking down at the kid, Stiles, who’d just lost his mom and must feel like his whole world had been sucked into a vortex of pain and fear and loneliness, Derek felt himself fill to bursting with the desire to tell his mom everything. To lay his head in her lap like he used to when he was small, open his mouth, and let it all come out of him, all the nastiness, shame, and guilt, like a swollen boil being lanced. To let her stroke his hair and growl under her breath like she did when anyone hurt her kids, to let her tell him everything was going to be all right. His hands clenched into fists, and the words were right behind his closed mouth.

But he kept silent.

His mom sighed again. “Go to bed, Derek. We’ll talk in the morning.”

***

The next morning was bright and hot. Derek stretched in his bed, listening to the sounds of the household awakening. There was Laura, singing off-key in the shower while she got ready for her summer job lifeguarding at the community center pool. He heard Peter down the hall, talking to Ben’s wife Anna about rebuilding the old shed at the back of the property. He could smell bacon and coffee from the kitchen, and hear children already outdoors, shrieking and laughing. 

“Derek!” his mom yelled up the stairs. “Get your butt down here!”

Derek sighed. It was the summer before his junior year in high school, and because he didn’t have a job, his mom expected him to help out with the kids and around the house. He swung his legs out of bed and grabbed the pair of jeans hanging over the back of his desk chair. Pulling them on, he found a t-shirt crumpled on the floor and donned that too, then loped down the stairs, barefoot.

“Hey, Mom,” he said, entering the kitchen and snagging a piece of bacon from a plate full of it. 

“Don’t ‘hey mom’ me,” she warned, smacking the back of his hand with a spatula, a baby snuggled against her other arm. She looked exhausted. There were pancakes turning golden around the edges in a pan and orange juice in a jug. “It’s nine in the morning. If you’re going to keep me up that damned late worrying about you, you’d better have your butt down here at the crack of freaking dawn to help me out. And your father wants to talk to you. He’ll be back this afternoon. In the meantime, I need you to take the human kids somewhere. Tom is not cooperating this morning.” She jiggled the baby in her arms and cast a dark look out to the back yard.

Derek glanced out the open door as the child in question ran by. He saw a hint of tiny fang. He laughed. “Shifting in front of the non-pack kids?”

“Not yet, but he totally would if I gave him the chance. Luckily, I’ve managed to keep them corralled in the playroom, but it’s too nice outside to keep them indoors. Rose is with them now.” Rose was his uncle Peter’s girlfriend. “Eat your breakfast and then take them to the stream or something.”  
There was a shallow stream that ran through the preserve and cut right across the Hale’s property. It was safe for the younger kids to paddle in, and the day was hot enough already that he wouldn’t have to worry about them getting hypothermia no matter how long they were at it. 

Derek grabbed a plate from the cupboard and piled pancakes and bacon onto it. He doused the whole thing in syrup, poured a big glass of orange juice, and sat down to demolish it all. 

“Chew, Derek. Nobody’s going to take it away from you,” Laura teased as she strolled into the kitchen, hair wet and dressed in sweatpants over her one-piece bathing suit. 

“Shut up,” he grunted, curling an arm protectively around his plate. Laura was a known bacon-stealer.

“Language,” his mother admonished, but there was no heat behind it. Derek looked at her, at the dark circles under her eyes and the way her long dark hair had been scraped messily back into a ponytail, and felt the guilt wash over him again. 

Laura crossed to her mom and took the baby from her. “Good morning, handsome little man! Are you being a good boy?” She raised the baby up toward the ceiling and the baby cackled down at her, kicking its chubby feet in glee. 

“His mom will be here at 10:00 to pick him up. When are you leaving?” Derek’s mom asked Laura. 

“Now, sorry mom. I’ll be late if I don’t go.” 

“At least take some breakfast with you.” Derek’s mom pulled open a drawer to find a plastic container. She piled pancakes and bacon into it and handed it to Laura, reclaiming the baby. “Here. Eat it in the car.”

“Thanks Mom.” Laura kissed her mother’s cheek. “Later, Der-bear. Have fun chasing kiddies all day!”

Derek grunted a goodbye at her as she left, then rose and took his plate to the sink. His mother grabbed his arm as he turned to go. “Derek.”

He raised his eyes unwillingly to meet hers. 

“I’m still mad. But I love you. Talk to your dad this afternoon, if you won’t talk to me. I just don’t want you to feel alone.”

His stomach twisted. “I’ll take the kids to the stream now. See you later.”

He walked to the doorway. Then, without turning around to face his mom, he muttered, “Love you too”, and left.

***

The kids splashed and screamed in the stream while Derek kept a watchful eye on them. He’d never admit it to his mom or anyone, but he actually mostly enjoyed babysitting: letting kids clamber all over him, hoisting them into the air and swinging them around, listening to their nonsensical conversations and helping them untidily print their names across the top of drawings of butterflies and square houses with triangle roofs and stick men (the front of the enormous Hale refrigerator was so full of drawings, it was impossible to open it without knocking something off). It was fun. He was tremendously popular with the kids too, his ever-expanding physique strong enough to wrestle and play and toss them around while keeping them perfectly safe. 

He noticed one kid hanging back, unwilling to join the others in the stream that sparkled in the dappled sunlight. Instead, he sat on the bank and watched them play, hugging his knees to his chest. It was the skinny one from the night before, Stiles.

“Hey, kiddo. Don’t you want to go swimming?” Derek asked, sitting down next to him, but keeping his eyes trained on the stream. 

The kid remained silent. He turned big brown eyes up to Derek, who glanced down at him. He was dressed for swimming in a pair of swim shorts with turtles on them and no shirt. His scapular bones were as delicate as bird’s wings. Derek felt a rush of protectiveness. “You okay?”

Stiles didn’t answer. Instead, he lowered his eyes and pressed himself against Derek’s side, curling into himself with his legs drawn up under him and his arms crossed tightly across his narrow chest. Derek put an arm around him. 

“You cold?”

Stiles shook his head.

“Hungry?”

Stiles shook his head again. He didn’t look up at Derek. 

“Just want to sit here? That’s cool, little dude. We’ll sit here together, all right? And then maybe you’ll want to swim later.” He hugged the child to his side, rubbing a hand briskly up and down his back. Derek was tactile, like all his family. Werewolf packs were big on soothing touch. He didn’t have a lot of words to offer the kid, but he could hug him a lot and maybe that would help. 

Some time passed. The kids in the stream were pretty well-behaved and Derek only had to intervene once or twice, over toy disputes or too much aggressive splashing. Stiles remained silent. Then, after about half an hour:

“My mom died.” His voice was very small and clear.

Derek shut his eyes and hugged the kid tighter to his side. “I know." He swallowed hard. "I’m really sorry.”

“I miss her.”

“I bet you do. I know she misses you, too.” Derek’s words were awkward, inadequate. He wished, fiercely, that his mom were there. She always had the right words. 

“My dad says she’s not coming back.” 

_Jesus_. What could he say to that? “I’m so sorry, Stiles.” He rubbed his hand in soothing spirals on the kid’s back. “Want a hug?” He looked down at him. 

Stiles didn’t answer and wouldn’t meet his eyes, just climbed into Derek’s lap and wrapped his arms tightly around Derek’s neck and his legs around Derek’s waist. Derek held him firmly, inhaling the scent of misery that came off him in waves. He breathed onto the kid’s neck, scent-marking him, knowing Stiles wouldn’t feel better from it but not knowing how else to express his urge to protect him and make him less unhappy. 

“Come on.” He rose, Stiles still clinging to his front like a spider monkey, and waded into the stream. “Let’s swim.”

***

After that, Stiles was around the Hale house a lot, and Derek was his new favorite person. Stiles hardly talked at all, preferring to cling to Derek’s side and read books or draw, rather than dive into the general chaos of the other kids’ playing. Derek didn’t really mind; the kid was quiet and Derek just got on with things, changing diapers or lifting weights in the basement or mopping floors or reading in the hammock in the backyard, Stiles lying on the grass on a blanket below him with his own book. 

Derek had a lot more free time these days, because he’d stopped seeing _her_. He wished it was because of the quiet, heart-to-heart talk he’d had with his dad where nothing was really said but everything understood, or the ever-present crushing guilt he felt around his mom, but actually it was because she’d just stopped calling him, stopped showing up, stopped offering herself. At first he’d been hurt, burning with teenaged arousal and melodramatic pain, but then he’d started feeling a lot more like himself again. He stopped moping around so much, cleaned his room more regularly, and even occasionally butted his head into his mom’s or Laura’s shoulder, so that they huffed and pulled him into a hug.

It had been two weeks since that last time with _her_ , the time she’d seemed so interested in his family and kept asking questions about them, so that he’d _stupidly_ gotten his hopes up and asked her if she’d come over to meet them sometime, maybe for a barbeque or something? And she’d laughed in his face. During the sex afterwards, she’d made fun of the fact that he was uncut, not for the first time, talking about his “freakish dick”. She’d still let him put it inside her though, and he’d still come hard and fast, though he’d felt like he might throw up even while it was happening. The episode still made him curl into himself in shame, but it was getting better. He was getting better. He was getting to the point that he hoped she wouldn’t call again. It was so much easier to be around his family, his pack, now he didn’t have to lie all the time about where he’d been and what he’d been doing. It was easier to remember who he was, who he’d always been, before the poison of _her_ inexplicable attention on him had changed everything. 

“Der?” he heard his mom call. He swung himself out of the hammock, bare feet hitting the grass on either side of Stiles’s small body, who looked up at Derek and rose to his own feet. The sun was low in the sky; evening was coming on. 

“Yeah?” He padded into the kitchen, Stiles close behind. His mom was holding his five-year-old cousin Emily, who was crying uncontrollably. She hid her face in Derek’s mom’s shoulder, which was a good thing because she was fully shifted and Stiles was in the room. Derek stepped smoothly in front of Stiles and held the kid behind him, against his leg. 

“Her brother broke her wrist by accident while they were playing,” his mom whispered in a voice too low for human ears. “It’s healing, but she can’t control the shift while she’s in pain. Can you take Stiles out of the house?”

He didn’t even answer her, just turned and swung Stiles up into his arms. “Come on, buddy. Let’s go for a walk in the woods.” He kept the kid’s face turned away from his mom and Emily as they walked through the kitchen and toward the front door. 

“Half an hour should do it,” his mom called after them. “Be safe.” 

“I will.” He turned back and flashed a smile at her, and she smiled wryly back at him. “Thanks for this, Der. I’ll owe you one.” 

He snorted and carried Stiles outside. 

***

The evening descended while Derek walked with Stiles through the preserve. With another kid, Derek would have been holding his hand by now, but Stiles would never leave Derek’s side to wander off into the woods. He followed beside Derek like an imprinted duckling. They walked in companionable silence, Stiles bending down to pick up sticks and rocks, examining them and discarding them in turns. 

Suddenly, Stiles stopped walking and tugged on the hem of Derek’s t-shirt. 

“What’s up, little man?” Derek asked, crouching down next to him. 

“Mrs Ellis said my mom was in heaven.” Mrs Ellis was one of the other kids’ moms. Derek felt a twinge of anger at her for talking to Stiles about it at all. 

“What do you think?” Derek asked, instead of confirming or denying.

“My dad just says she’s gone. He never said heaven. Where is heaven?”

Derek pointed at the sky. “Some people think it’s up there.”

“What do you think?”

Derek sighed and looked down at the ground. “I don’t know, buddy.”

“What about stars?”

He looked at Stiles. “What about them?”

“Well...” the kid didn’t seem to know how to express what he was trying to say. “My mom was pretty. Stars are pretty, they’re...bright, like she was. Maybe she’s in the stars? Maybe that’s what heaven is?” The last bit came out all in a rush and sounded like pleading.

Derek very carefully wrapped his arms around Stiles, held him close. “I hope so, Stiles.”

Stiles sniffled slightly, but no tears came. He never cried; he was one of the most stoic little kids Derek had ever met. “I wish I could see her.”

“I do too. I really do.”

“Can we see the stars?” Stiles looked up, craning his neck to try and make them out through the dense cover of the woods. 

Derek picked Stiles up again. “Not here, but I can take you somewhere we can see them really well, if you want.” Stiles nodded, wiping his nose on his arm. “I’m going to have to carry you, though. It’s a little bit far.” Stiles nodded again, and Derek held him close and loped easily in the direction of the northern edge of the Hale territory.

Derek jogged at a pace that felt slow to him but wouldn’t scare Stiles by being preternatural. They were still covering ground quickly (and going uphill), and of course Derek’s superior eyesight meant he didn’t have to worry about being tripped up by tree roots or fallen branches, but Stiles didn’t know that. They’d already been out longer than he told his mom he’d be, but it didn’t take too long for them to emerge at the flat rock.

Derek set Stiles down and watched as the boy looked straight up at the sky and turned in a full circle. The forest let out here in a wide clearing at the top of a hill, with a big flat rock in the center and a nice view of Beacon Hills to one side. They were at the very edge of the Hale territory. There was no light pollution out here, and the sky was stuffed full of stars; the moon was a thin crescent that didn’t interfere with the stars’ brightness. 

“Wow,” Stiles breathed.

Derek felt a rush of affection for the kid; this was one of his favorite places in the world. “Lots of stars, huh?”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, drifting closer and slipping his small hand into Derek’s own. “I’ve never seen so many.” 

“Come here,” Derek said, tugging gently on Stiles’ hand. He led him over to the flat rock and laid down on it, gesturing for the boy to join him. They lay there, heads close together, and looked up at the stars. Neither said anything. Derek felt a huge, blank peace fill his mind and body. The moon didn’t tug against his control; it would be weeks before he really felt its pull again. Everything was right with the world. 

Minutes passed.

And then, suddenly, everything was very, very wrong. 

Derek bolted to his feet when he heard his mother’s howl. Stiles startled badly, not having heard it, and looked up at Derek with huge, scared eyes. Derek stood stock still, waiting, his whole body pulsing with the need to _know_ , to be sure everything was all right. 

And then it came again, and it was filled with rage and terror and pain. Derek didn’t hesitate; he scooped Stiles into his arms and flung himself into the forest.

“Derek?” Stiles gasped out, jolting against Derek’s chest as Derek ran flat-out in the direction of the house. “Is it...what’s wrong? Is it okay? We’re going so fast...” he trailed off and just clung to Derek’s neck. Derek didn’t answer, just threw his body as fast as it would go back home, home home. 

Derek knew about the hunters, of course, had been warned and trained and lectured about them since he was old enough to understand the words. But no one had ever moved against the Hale pack; they kept themselves to themselves, his mother was a strong Alpha, they’d never harmed a human, they’d lived in Beacon Hills for generations, there was no reason...

_There is no reason,_ Derek repeated to himself over and over and over again during that never-ending sprint through the dark forest. _It’s not what you think, it’s nothing, Mom is going to laugh at you when you come bursting through the door, whatever it is will already be over and you’ll be pissed you missed all the excitement, it’s nothing, it’s nothing, it’s nothing_

And Derek knew it wasn’t nothing, as he pushed his body to its extreme limits until the trees flew past them in a blur. His mother would never howl like that if it was nothing. It was something, it was something horrible, something huge, something...

And then the smell hit him and he reeled back. He was still half a mile from the house, but the whole forest reeked of it. Smoke. Gunpowder. Strangers. The smoke, oh god, the smoke was choking. He couldn’t help it. He roared in terror. 

Stiles cowered against his chest, his whole body shaking. Derek held him fiercely tight, probably hurting him a little, while his mind raced. His body had already started moving again, sneakers pounding against the soft earth, while he tried to process all that his senses were telling him. The closer they got, the more the smoke choked him, and he struggled to get air into his lungs, tears streaking heedless down his face as he finally burst from the treeline into the clearing at the front of the house.

The house. The house, _his_ house, his _family’s_ house, was engulfed in flames. 

And he could hear screaming. 

He looked frantically around and saw police cars and a firetruck just pulling up the drive. He sprinted to them just as the Sheriff flung himself out of one of the cars and ran toward Derek. 

“Do you have my...oh thank god, Stiles!” The Sheriff shouted as Derek neared him. Derek shoved Stiles into his arms, turned and sprinted toward the house. The front door had flames roaring out of it, so did the living room window. He could see movement inside, and he didn’t know if it was the fire or...or... _Oh, god, please. Please please please please please_

He reached the porch, but had to reel back as the heat him like a solid wall of pain. He ran around the perimeter of the house, leapt the fence to the backyard, looking for an opening, anything, any way to get inside, and then he saw a dark shape fly out of an upstairs window, broken glass shattering, and land with a sickening thump in the grass right in front of him. He ran to it and turned the body over.

“Peter!” he shouted. His uncle was unmoving, his eyes closed, half of his face burned horribly away. “Peter!” He shook him frantically, but there was no response. He dragged Peter away from the house to a safe distance.

“Derek!” he heard a shriek and turned to see Laura hurtling towards him. She flung himself at him, holding the sides of his face and screaming at him. “Where’s Mom? Dad? Where are the kids? Where is everyone? What happened? Derek, what the fuck happened?” She shook him hard, her claws digging into his arms.

“I don’t - I don’t know!” he shouted back at her, clinging to her waist and coughing from the smoke streaming from the house. “I just got here! I was in the woods - what - how can we - we have to get inside Laura, I think there are still...I heard screaming, Laura! What do we do? What do we do?” 

“I came from that way” she pointed to the other side of the house “there’s no way in. The fire is everywhere. What about that side?” she pointed, hand shaking as tears flowed down her cheeks. 

Derek shook his head, and they stared at each other for an instant, hopeless, frantic, and terrified. Then they gripped each other’s hands and flew back around to the other side of the house, where the firemen were unloading equipment. “I smell gunpowder,” Laura yelled. “What is - where-” Derek gripped her hand tighter and shook his head at her. He pulled her along and they stumbled over to the Sheriff, who was holding Stiles in his arms and looking up at the house with fear written all over his face. 

“Did you find them? Did my family get out?” Derek shouted at him as they approached. The Sheriff turned swiftly and deposited his son into the back of the patrol car, then shut the door and turned back to them. 

“No. No one came out.” His voice was hoarse from the smoke and the tears in his eyes. 

“But,” Derek was incredulous, frenzied. “That’s impossible. My whole family was home, except me and my sister! They were all there! They must have left as soon as the fire started. Where are they?”

“Derek-” the Sheriff began, laying a hand on Derek’s arm.

“No!” Derek shouted, shoving his hand away. “No! They’re okay! They must be here, they’re here somewhere, they got out, they all got out, there were _kids in that house_ , Sheriff, my mom would never-” Laura stood beside him, nodding frantically, clinging to his hand. “My mom...” Derek choked on smoke and his own tears. “She would never let anything happen to those kids.” 

“Derek, I am so sorry. But my men have searched, are still searching the woods. And we haven’t found anyone. I’m so sorry, son.”

And then, with a terrible cracking and breaking sound of timber, the roof caved in. The house collapsed in on itself, sparks rising for what looked like miles into the night sky. 

Laura turned away with a choking sound of horror, wrapped her arms around Derek’s waist and buried her head in his chest, sobbing. Derek just stared up at the house, incomprehension making his mind numb. He rubbed Laura’s back, rumbling low in his chest to comfort her. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t real. 

“This isn’t real.”

He felt a weight against his leg and looked down to see Stiles leaning against him and looking up, his small arms wrapping around Derek’s leg while tears ran down his face. They locked eyes, and Derek knew. He knew it was real. 

***

Derek didn’t see Stiles again for ten years.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek comes back to Beacon Hills looking for Laura. He meets up with Stiles for the first time in years. Feelings ensue. Past told in flashbacks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG I promised you guys an easier ride than last chapter, but I’m afraid this is NOT THAT AT ALL. IT IS NOT MY FAULT THE WRITERS INSIST ON GIVING THESE CHARACTERS SUCH TRAGIC BACKSTORIES, OKAY.
> 
> This chapter and the whole story started out in my head really canon compliant, then diverged quickly and violently as I wrote. Oops? I have come to realize that this story is going to be nothing more and nothing less than my own personal expression of fix-it-with-fic, or in other words, this is the story I wish the show Teen Wolf was telling. Hope you like it! Thank you so much for the comments and kudos - they mean an awful lot to me. 
> 
> Tags have been updated.

***

Derek stood in the clearing, hands in his jacket pockets, and looked up at the ruins of the house. His jaw clenched, but no other expression crossed his face.

_’I’ll only be gone a couple of days,’ Laura had said. She’d stood there, in her waitress uniform, his **sister** , his brilliant, beautiful sister who would have, **should** have gone to college and studied journalism and become a world famous reporter, stood there in her polyester uniform and pantyhose and cheap white sneakers, her expression stern. ‘I’m going alone.’_

_‘No, you’re not,’ Derek said instantly._

_‘You don’t get a say in this, Derek. I’m going and you’re staying here and that’s final.’_

_Derek looked around at the shabby one-bedroom apartment they shared, in the grimier section of Seattle. He slept on the pull-out couch, Laura in a narrow single bed in the tiny closet of a bedroom. There were stains on the wallpaper, and the pipes knocked loudly whenever anyone in the building used the water. ‘Why would I stay here, Laura? Why should either of us stay here? We should stay together. We always have...it’s safer if...’_

_‘Look, I have something I need to do, and I have to...I have to go alone. I would feel so much better if I knew you were here, safe. Please. Just...don’t argue.’_

_‘I’m arguing! This is not okay!’_

_Suddenly, Laura had her arm across Derek’s neck, slamming him up against the wall. Her eyes bled red. She snarled in his face and he automatically turned his head to the side, baring his throat to her. ‘You will stay here,’ she said, each word measured and enunciated._

_‘Laura-’_

_The snarl rose in pitch._

_‘I-’_

_The pressure on his neck increased. He had to submit. His body screamed at him to do it._

_‘All right,’ Derek choked out._

_She released him. ‘Good,’ she said shakily. ‘Good.’ She sat heavily on the couch. ‘God dammit, Derek, you know I don’t like doing that.’_

_He sat beside her. He didn’t say anything, but after a minute he put his hand in hers and leaned his head to the side until it rested on her shoulder, like he had when they were little. She squeezed his hand, then released it._

_‘I’ll be back before you know it. Lock the door behind me.’ And she got up and walked out._

That was the last time he’d seen her.

He found himself standing on the crumbling porch of the house. His jaw worked minutely and he breathed heavily through his nose, nostrils flaring. Then he opened the door. 

The first thing his eyes alighted on was a dark, flaking patch of ash and soot ground into the floor just inside the door. He averted his eyes and moved further into the house. 

The refrigerator and deep porcelain sink had survived. Almost nothing else in the kitchen had. 

_’Eat your breakfast, Derek. You want to grow up to be big and strong, right?’_

He shuddered, turning away. 

He climbed the stairs to the second floor. His room on the left, Laura’s across from his, then gaping doorways without doors extending down the long hall, to the room at the end that had been his parents’. Clouds of dust and ash stirred at his footfalls. 

He poked his head into Laura’s room. Nothing was disturbed; she hadn’t been here. 

His feet pointed him in the direction of his parents’ room, though the rest of his body was unwilling. He shuffled down the hall, ignoring all the other rooms. The doorway loomed before him, murky darkness beyond. 

He entered the room. 

The bedstead had partially survived; his dad had made it for his mom when they’d been married. Derek supposed both he and Laura had been conceived in that bed. It was sturdy oak, a four-poster, although only two of the posts remained. 

_’No eating in the bed! This quilt was your grandmother’s! Come on, come downstairs and we’ll have a snack together.’_

He forced himself to walk down the stairs, although all he wanted to do was run until his lungs gave out. 

***

Days passed. Derek searched the preserve by day, curling in on himself in a sleeping bag on the floor of the living room by night to not-sleep. Sometimes he not-slept in the Camaro just to escape the oppressive silence of the house.

The Camaro was new. Derek had saved all the money he’d made working at the mechanic’s in Seattle, and Laura had saved everything from her waitressing job and the occasional temp secretary placements. She’d been determined to send Derek to college, adamant in the face of his protestations that she was the smarter one and deserved it more. He’d taken a few classes at the local community college, but there was never enough time or money to devote himself to it. And then he’d gotten older and got promoted to senior mechanic and it got less important, somehow, to get an education. It had all just gotten away from them, the years passing by in a blur of cheap food and cheap apartments and long silences, Laura shut up in her bedroom while Derek stared at the television without seeing the show. The money piled up and they were both too afraid to spend a penny of it beyond essentials, never knowing when they might need to run, to hide, to disappear.

When Laura had disappeared, Derek had waited two weeks for her to come back. When she hadn’t, when there’d been no word from her, he’d emptied both their bank accounts, bought the Camaro with part of the money, and driven to Beacon Hills. He knew that was where she’d gone. He’d known all along. There was nowhere else that she wouldn’t have taken him with her.

He knew it was stupid to buy such an expensive car, knew he never should have done it. But he was so tired of shabbiness and dirt, old things that had been used hard by their previous owners, deprivation. He knew he was never going to college. He pictured Laura’s face when she saw it, how she would be both delighted and furious with him. Laura loved fast cars.

He prayed to a god he didn’t believe in that he would see her face again.

***

Derek was in the most densely-wooded part of the Hale property, scenting the air to try and catch Laura’s scent somewhere, anywhere, when something else made his head turn sharply and his fists clench at his sides. 

There was another werewolf, nearby, someone whose scent he didn’t know.

He moved silently through the trees and circled around behind where his senses told him the werewolf was. There was someone else with him, a human with a jittery, erratic heartbeat. Derek spotted something half-buried in the leaves and reached down to grab it. It was an asthma inhaler. He shoved it into his jacket pocket.

He got closer and closer, until he could hear their conversation. 

“--hear stuff I shouldn’t be able to hear...smell things...” the werewolf said. 

“Smell things?” the human asked. Derek caught his scent too, mostly teenaged boy with a sugary chemical tang that set Derek’s teeth on edge, but something else too, something familiar...

They were talking about gum, for some reason, as Derek tried to work out what he was hearing. The werewolf had just been turned, and he...he didn’t know what was happening to him. How could - who had turned him? Where was his Alpha? Why wasn’t he or she explaining what was going on to this kid? 

He tuned back in when the human said the word “Lycanthropy”, clearly and calmly. Derek blinked. He moved swiftly through the trees, keeping them in range, while he tried to think how the human could possibly know about them, about their kind. 

And, wow, this werewolf was not too bright, was he? “Is that bad?” he asked, his voice cracking. Seriously, who the hell picked _this_ kid to turn?

The boys kept moving, joking and shoving each other playfully, and it became clear to Derek that the human had been kidding, especially when he gave a little howl and curled his fingers into claws, then broke up laughing. 

_I know that kid. How do I know that kid?_

“Maybe the killer moved the body.”

What? What body? Derek’s body moved toward them before his brain caught up, and then he was out in the open, standing right behind them. 

“--inhaler, those things are like 80 bucks...”

The human spotted Derek and shoved his friend, so that the werewolf turned and looked at Derek. Derek strode over to them, filled with an unreasonable anger. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked coldly. _Body, what body? They can’t be talking about..._

They didn’t answer, looking scared.

“This is private property,” he continued, glaring at them both. The young werewolf was short, dark haired and dark-skinned; the human was taller, all arms and legs in motion, with pale skin and moles on his...

_I know this kid._

“Sorry man, we didn’t know,” the human said. He was someone from...before, someone Derek had...

“--looking for something, but...” the werewolf’s words intruded on Derek’s thoughts. The inhaler. That’s what they were looking for. But what had they said about a body? He retrieved the inhaler from his pocket and tossed it to the werewolf, noting his preternaturally fast reflexes. Derek turned and started to walk away, his mind still racing. _What. Fucking. Body?_

But the other question ran in tandem with that terrifying thought. The kid, the human kid, he was. Someone from...he would have been a little kid back then...he was-

“Stiles.” he said aloud, turning back around. And then he couldn’t believe it had taken him so long to figure it out. Stiles’ eyes were the same, his skin, his moles, everything. He was staring at Derek, mouth open, brow slightly furrowed, and then he reeled back in shock as if he’d been hit in the face.

“Jesus Christ. Derek. Derek Hale.” 

He moved closer as if drawn to Derek by a magnet. The younger werewolf held back, watching his friend warily. 

“Derek.” Stiles reached out a hand, then dropped it back down to his side. He looked at the ground, then his eyes came back to Derek’s as if he couldn’t help himself. “I can’t believe...it’s you. What the hell are you doing here, man?”

“I’m,” Derek cleared his throat. “I’m looking for Laura.” He felt a huge confusing rush of emotions, looking at Stiles, who had grown from that skinny little kid into this...well, he was still skinny. But he was tall and rangy and had a sharp intelligence behind his eyes.

“Laura,” Stiles repeated. “Your sister? She’s...she’s in Beacon Hills?”

“I don’t know. I think so.”

Stiles faced worked, moving through a range of expressions quickly. “Oh...oh, jesus, Derek. But - you don’t know...they found a body here last night. A - a young woman. Have you...have you heard from Laura? Do you know-”

Derek felt a lance of anguish go through his heart as he understood was Stiles was suggesting. “No,” he mumbled, looking down, trying to rein in the fear. “I haven’t heard from her.”

Stiles sucked in a breath, then let it out in a rush. “I’m sure it’s not - I mean, it can’t be.” He stopped, and looked at Derek, and his eyes were filled with regret. “You better come with me.”

***

The Jeep rattled violently; Derek could feel his back teeth clattering together as they sped over the bumps and potholes in the road that led out of the preserve. He sat in the passenger seat; Stiles was driving and Scott, that was the werewolf’s name, was in the back. No one spoke. In fact, other than Stiles introducing the two of them, no one had spoken a word since Stiles had told Derek to come with him. 

Derek looked out the window. The last time he’d seen Stiles had been the night of...that night. Laura and he...well, they’d gotten the hell out of Beacon Hills the next day, with absolutely nothing except the clothes on their backs, Laura’s debit card to her checking account that amounted to about two hundred bucks, and her eight year old Ford Escort. They had run as far and as fast as that money took them, knowing nothing except that their family, their entire family was dead. Derek had known one other thing, had known it really all along but had had it confirmed when they’d crept back to the house in the hazy dawn of the morning after the fire, when he’d seen the message left just for him, a message no one else would have noticed or been able to understand. It had taken him over a year to finally tell Laura.

_’You have to talk to me, Derek! I never know what’s going on with you!’_

_‘Don’t want to talk,’ he grunted, feeling his triceps start to burn as he began another rep of push-ups. It felt good, the ache, burned the thoughts right out of his mind and sometimes, if he exhausted himself enough, even let him sleep._

_‘I don’t give a shit what you want. You’re going to tell me. Whatever it is.’_

_‘Tell you what?’ His arms kept flexing, pushing his body back up, then down. He lifted his left arm, put it behind his back. Down, up, down, up._

_‘If I knew that, we wouldn’t be - Derek, stop a second.’_

_He stopped, rolled onto his back, looked up at her from his prone position on the floor. ‘What?’_

_She sighed and sat down beside him cross-legged. ‘Der-bear.’_

_He flinched at the old nickname. She never called him that anymore, hadn’t called him that once since..._

_‘I don’t want to make you talk about it, little bro. I wish we could just never talk about it. But this is...you’re not getting better and I’m not getting better. We have to talk about it. I know there’s something...something you’re not telling me. I can’t let you - just - I can’t let you just sit here day after day, dying in little tiny increments. You’re my brother. You’re my,’ she inhaled sharply. ‘My only family. I need you.’_

_He squeezed his eyes shut._

_‘Please.’_

_He felt his breath coming in shorter pulls, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew she could hear it._

_‘Tell me,’ she whispered._

_He opened his eyes, stared at the ceiling._

_‘Before the...before. There was a girl. A woman. I was seeing her.’_

_‘Okay,’ Laura breathed._

_‘She was...older. I didn’t really know her.’ He fisted his hands. ‘I was so stupid. I thought she cared about me.’_

_Laura’s hand moved closer to his._

_‘I told her...she asked me, Laura. Asked me all these questions about our...about us. And I told her. I told her about the house, who lived there, the kids. I told her everything. I would have told her anything.’ His voice was higher than normal, slightly hysterical. ‘It was her. She was a hunter. She set the fire.’_

_Laura was motionless, frozen. Her voice was below a whisper, would have been sub-vocal for a human. ‘How do you know?’_

_He rolled over, got to his feet, and walked over to the old army chest they used as a coffee table. He lifted the lid and rummaged through his things until he found a small cardboard box. His fingers closed over the small cold object inside and he dropped the box back into the chest._

_He walked back to Laura and held the object out to her. She reached up from her position on the floor and took it._

_‘It was hers,’ he said, watching Laura examine the gold pendant on the chain. ‘She left it there, hanging in a tree right next to the house. She knew I would find it. She wanted me to know.’_

_Laura’s eyes rose to meet his, and they were filled with such sorrow that Derek wanted to break everything in the world. ‘It was my fault, Laura. I killed them. I killed our family.’ He sank to his knees in front of her, gripped her hands. ‘I killed them.’ He felt tears prickling at the back of his eyes, but he wouldn’t let himself cry. He didn’t deserve to._

_She stared back at him, grief-stricken. Then her head shook once, sharply, violently. ‘No.’ She let go of his hands, gripped the sides of his head. ‘No, it fucking wasn’t. It was not your fault.’_

_He shook his head, trying to get away, to dislodge her grip, but she was stronger than he was and she wouldn’t let him go. ‘Derek. It was not your fault. It was hers. I am going to - where is she? Who is she?’_

_‘Kate,’ he choked out. ‘Her name was Kate.’_

_‘What was her last name?’_

_He shook his head again. ‘She never told me,’ he whispered, and the shame washed over him like a thick, viscous liquid._

_Laura stared at him. ‘Oh god, Derek.’ She reached for him and wrapped her arms around his neck. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’_

_The tears were stuck in his throat, choking him. ‘I didn’t want you to...to hate me.’_

_Laura let out a short sob. Then she swallowed hard and leaned back, her hands on the side of his face again, tears running down her cheeks. ‘I could never, ever hate you. You are my brother and I love you more than any other person on this earth, do you understand me? Do you hear me?’ She shook him a little._

_He stared at her, and then he felt his face crumple and the hot salty tears suddenly burned in his eyes and spilled down his face. He buried his head in Laura’s neck and held on, her arms around him the only thing keeping him anchored to the whole damned world. He cried like a child._

He felt the Jeep jounce and refocused to see that they were pulling into the police station parking lot. He looked over at Stiles, who looked back grimly. “Come on. We’re going to talk to my dad.”

They exited the Jeep, all three of them, and went in. Stiles moved around Derek and led the way to an office in the back.

The Sheriff sat behind a desk, and looked up as they entered the room. “Hey Stiles, Scott. What brings you-” He broke off as Derek entered and peered at him. “Sorry...but don’t I know-”

“Dad, you remember Derek? Derek Hale?” Stiles interrupted.

Derek didn’t miss the flash of sadness and pity that crossed the Sheriff’s face. “Yes. Yeah, of...of course I do. Derek,” he said, rising from his chair and holding out his hand. 

Derek reached out automatically and shook it. “Sheriff.”

“It’s been a long time. What brings you back to Beacon Hills?”

“I’m looking for my sister. Laura.”

The Sheriff looked between Derek and his son. “Is she missing?”

“I...yes. She is.”

Stiles broke in. “Dad, you know the-the body they found.”

The Sheriff flinched. “Stiles, you shouldn’t even know about...and you think...oh.” He sank back into his chair and covered his eyes with his hand for an instant, then removed it. “Derek, have you heard from your sister?”

“No, sir. Not for almost three weeks. She was supposed to be back, to Seattle, that’s where we live, a couple of days after she left. I came here looking for her.” He could hear the edge of desperation creep into his voice.

The Sheriff looked at him. “Look, there’s no reason to believe that the body we found is your sister. But...”

“But we should check and make sure, right?” Stiles asked.

“Stiles,” his father warned. 

“I’m just saying! He has to know, Dad. One way or the other.” Stiles crossed his arms over his chest and moved a little closer to Derek.

The Sheriff sighed and rose to his feet. “All right. Let’s go.”

***

Derek’s feet moved without conscious thought, following in the wake of the Sheriff’s shoes and Stiles’ sneakers. Scott had excused himself back at the police station, promising to call Stiles later. They’d driven in a patrol car to Beacon Hills hospital, and taken an elevator down to the basement floor, walking past a sign marked “Morgue”. 

Derek’s entire inner being consisted of a single endless loop of words that played over and over again, a loop of _please no please no please no please no please no_ until he thought he might just scream, shriek the words out into the air. But he was silent; his expression never wavered, mouth tight and jaw clenched. Stiles looked back at him continually, and his hand reached for him and dropped back down again several times.

They stopped outside the door. The Sheriff turned to Derek and gestured to a door to the left. “There’s a viewing room, there. I’ll have the coroner-”

“No,” Derek cut him off, more forcefully than he meant to. He started again, quieter. “Just...I’ll just go in, okay?”

The Sheriff studied his expression for a moment, then nodded. They entered the room. It was freezing cold, and three walls were lined with big stainless steel drawers. The Sheriff tried briefly to prevent Stiles from following them in, but Stiles jutted out his jaw and stepped around his father, hurrying to catch up with Derek. 

“All right.” The Sheriff took a deep breath. “Are you ready for this?”

 _I will never be ready for this_. “Yes.”

***

 _’Lock the door behind me.’_ The last words she’d ever said, would ever say to him.

He came back to himself in the hallway, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. The Sheriff was a short distance away, talking on the phone. He became aware that Stiles was sitting next to him, his left leg pressed against Derek’s right. He looked at Derek when he saw Derek’s head turn.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. 

Derek felt numb, nothing, empty. There were no words.

“Derek? Are you...I don’t mean are you all right, obviously you’re not all right, but are you...are you still breathing?” Stiles put a hand on his arm. 

Derek didn’t move, speak. 

Stiles stayed quiet after that, but he kept his hand on Derek’s arm.

The Sheriff approached them, sliding his cell phone back into the holster at his side. He crouched down in front of Derek. “Where are you staying, Derek? I’ll drive you back. We can talk about...the arrangements later.”

Derek opened his mouth, tried to speak, and failed. He cleared his throat, hard. “At the house,” he croaked. 

“The-” the Sheriff looked shocked, then dismayed. “The old house?”

Derek nodded, looking down at the floor.

There was a silence.

Then Stiles and his father spoke at the same time:

“You can’t stay there,” the Sheriff said.

“You can stay with us,” Stiles said. 

They looked at each other. The Sheriff held his son’s gaze for a moment, searching his face, then nodded and turned back to Derek. “You can stay with us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear next chapter will be less sad. I swear!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and the Sheriff take tragic!Derek back to Casa Stilinski, where they start piecing together the mystery. Oh, and Stiles totally finds out that Derek is a creature of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Derek’s POV for 2 chapters of TRAUMA was, oh I don’t know, KILLING ME DEAD, NO NO REALLY TRUFAX DEAD, I thought I’d give Stiles a chance to have a POV chapter. Stupid broody tragic werewolf who BREAKS MY HEART. *side eyes Derek* 
> 
>  
> 
> Happily, our favorite resident ADD-afflicted teenager appears to have lightened the mood considerably.

***

The minute Stiles saw the guy in the woods, he knew he remembered him from somewhere. He was only half-following the conversation they were having, his brain racing to place him. Then the guy turned away, and Stiles was half on the verge of calling after him, “Wait, do I know you?” or something equally stupid, when he heard him say

“Stiles.”

He stared at the guy, hearing Scott inhale sharply next to him. And then it hit him, hit him with the force of a lacrosse ball to the skull.

“Jesus Christ.” His heart stuttered, found its rhythm again. Derek. “Derek. Derek Hale.” 

And holy fuck, it was. It was Derek. Stiles looked at him while a hurricane of emotions from the past blew through him: adoration, terror, guilt. Oh yeah, guilt. There was a lot of that. 

The conversation that followed was surreal. Stiles didn’t even really get a chance to think much about how he felt about Derek being back in Beacon Hills, or how much Stiles had always wanted to see him again, to talk to him, to thank him, to apologize...because Derek mentioned his sister and Stiles thought about the body they’d found and then his stupid mouth just came out with it, and THEN they were in the Jeep and Derek was brooding out the window on the way to Stiles’ dad’s office.

When they arrived at the morgue and Stiles’ dad tried to prevent him from entering the room, Stiles just looked at him. His dad _knew_ , knew his history with Derek. There was no way in hell Stiles wasn’t going to be there for Derek, no matter what the outcome was. His dad’s mouth tightened, but he let Stiles move past him. 

And then...

Stiles had been through some bad things in his life. He’d lost his mom, and then had to watch his dad fall into the abyss of mourning afterwards, and he’d carried the fear that his dad might never come out on his young shoulders.

But watching Derek’s face as he saw his last living relative lying dead on that stainless steel table, the unmitigated horror of how she’d been murdered and butchered...that was an experience Stiles wouldn’t wish on anyone. 

He ached to be able to comfort Derek, to do _something_ to ease the abject grief that made his face as open and vulnerable as a child’s. It was _painful_ to look at him.

 _I’ve never seen someone look so alone_. 

When they were back out in the hall, he wanted to hug Derek, but Derek looked so fragile he was afraid to touch him. He finally settled for laying a hand on Derek’s arm, unsure whether he was trying to comfort Derek or himself. 

“You can stay with us.”

The words burst out of Stiles before his brain caught up. He caught the look from his dad, but turned on the full wattage Stiles puppy eyes; even so, his dad gave in more quickly than usual. He obviously felt for Derek too. Who wouldn’t? The guy’s life was horrifically tragic.

 _Derek Hale is going to be sleeping in our house tonight._

***

After picking up the Camaro from in front of that god-awful wreck of a house, he and his dad got Derek settled on the couch at Casa Stilinski and his dad left to work the rest of his shift. 

Stiles looked at Derek sitting on the couch, pillow and blanket folded neatly on one end. Derek’s face was completely blank. He looked exhausted.

“Hey,” Stiles said, sitting down on the chair next to the couch. “How are you doing? Are you hungry? Want something to eat?”

Derek slowly raised his head. “No. No thanks. Just...”

“Want to be alone for a while?” Stiles nodded. “Totally understandable. I’m just going to go into the kitchen and make myself some food. If you want anything, just...help yourself, okay?” A thought occurred to him, and he added lamely, “Do you want a beer or something?”

Derek shook his head.

“No, well, that’s probably the smart call. Good job.” Stiles was babbling. He always did when he was nervous. “I’m going to...with the...I’ll just...” and he backed away to the kitchen.

When his pasta was ready, he hesitated for a minute, wavering in the doorway to the dining room, which opened onto the living room. Then he took his plate up to his bedroom. He ate, checked his email, texted Scott to tell him he’d call him later, paced for a while, and finally crept back downstairs to check on Derek. 

Derek had fallen asleep sitting up on the couch, still wearing his shoes and leather jacket. His face looked open, slack. Stiles stood in the doorway watching him for a minute, then crossed into the room and slid down silently against the wall. He felt Derek probably needed watching over this night. 

The room was quiet except for Derek’s soft sleeping noises, and a little over-warm. Stiles closed his eyes, just for a minute. 

When he woke, the room was dark and he’d slipped over to lay on his side against the wall. His eyes had snapped open in response to a noise. 

And then he heard it again, a low moan coming from the couch. Stiles rose to his feet, stretching his aching neck, and crept across the room. 

Derek had slumped down against the arm of the couch at some point. His brow was furrowed and his head thrashed back and forth, eyes moving beneath his closed lids. He moaned again, caught in the grip of a nightmare.

Stiles leaned down and whispered, “Derek.” No response. He reached out a hand to touch Derek’s shoulder, whispering again, “Derek. Wake up.”

When Stiles’ hand made contact with Derek’s shoulder, Derek’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. In an instant, Stiles was slammed to the floor and Derek was looming over him in the dark. When Stiles looked up at him in shock, he- there was- _Derek had the face of an animal_.

No, not an animal. Like a, a monster. Like he was wearing a monster mask. 

And then Derek released him and was backing away, had backed away so fast Stiles hadn’t even seen him move. He was pressed up against the far wall, his head turned away. 

“D-Derek?” Stiles gasped out.

“I’m sorry,” came the response. 

Stiles sat up shakily. “What the fuck just happened?” 

Derek was still against the wall. Stiles could barely see him in the gloom.

“I’m really sorry. Did I hurt you?”

“No,” Stiles shook his head. “No, just...well, scared the hell out of me! What happened to your face?” 

Silence. Then: “Fuck.”

Stiles waited, frozen in place. Finally Derek moved back across the room and sat on the couch. Stiles reached over with a shaking hand and turned on the lamp. 

Derek’s face was completely normal again. _Not that Derek’s face is ever really normal; he’s beautiful_ , Stiles’ mind unhelpfully supplied, and where had _that_ thought come from? He was probably hysterical. Derek looked deeply chagrined. 

“Uh, I’m going to need you to say something here,” Stiles said with a slightly manic tone to his voice. 

“Okay,” Derek said finally. He nodded once, to himself. “Okay. I was having a nightmare, and I didn’t realize it was you when you woke me.”

“Yeah, got that part, totally clear. It was when _your face changed _that you kind of lost me.” Stiles wasn’t scared, which might have been the weirdest part of all of this. He was just crazily confused.__

__Derek sighed and scrubbed both hands through his hair, making it stand on end. “Right. So, remember in the woods, you were talking to Scott about werewolves?”_ _

__Stiles felt an electric thrill of anticipation run through his body. “Yeah?”_ _

__“Yeah. They’re real.”_ _

__“They’re...you...you’re one?”_ _

__“Yeah.”_ _

__Stiles shot up from the floor and sat down next to Derek on the couch, a little closer than maybe necessary. “Show me.”_ _

__Derek looked down, his face reddening. “No.”_ _

__“Please! I want to see. Please.” Stiles’ heart was thumping in his chest._ _

__“No you don’t.” Derek’s voice was flat._ _

__“I really do. Really! Really really. Please, show me.”_ _

__Derek turned his head, looked at Stiles, and Stiles watched as _the bones of his face shifted_. His canine teeth lengthened, his brow became more prominent while his eyebrows disappeared, his nose thickened and ears grew to sharp tips, hair sprouted on his cheeks, and his eyes _glowed electric blue_. _ _

__“Holy shit,” Stiles breathed. His hand reached out, of its own accord, to touch, but Derek grabbed his wrist again, this time with fingers that ended in sharp, lethal-looking claws._ _

__“Don’t.” It was muffled, the quality of his voice changed by the size of his teeth. He looked down._ _

__“But...that’s incredible. Wow. Can I...can I see your teeth?” Stiles asked. _Is that a rude thing to ask a...a freaking werewolf, holy shit, werewolves are real._ The thought played in an endless loop in Stiles’ head._ _

__Derek sighed, opened his mouth. They were gleaming white, and the canines looked sharp enough to cut through steel plate._ _

__Stiles couldn’t stop looking at him. Derek looked back, his weird glowy eyes sad. Stiles’ wrist flexed in Derek’s hand and Derek let him go. He reached out again, and Derek flinched, but finally sat still and let Stiles touch him. He ran a fingertip over the coarse hair on the sides of Derek’s face, skated over the hairless, heavy brow, touched the tip of one ear. Then he let his hand fall back into his lap._ _

__“That’s amazing.”_ _

__Derek looked away and his face rearranged itself back into its normal composition, which was almost as fascinating as watching it happen the other way around._ _

__“Um.” Stiles felt like his head was going to explode. “I know you’ve had probably the worst day in your entire life, but can I ask you about a million questions?”_ _

__***_ _

__Derek explained a lot of things, speaking in a heavy, flat voice that spoke of grief and exhaustion. He explained the general physiology of werewolves, special powers, what could and couldn’t kill them._ _

__Stiles’ face contorted as a sudden thought struck him. “Fucking hell, Scott is a werewolf!”_ _

__“Yeah, he is,” Derek confirmed._ _

__“Wait, but...you didn’t...isn’t wasn’t you, was it? That bit him?” Stiles’ voice raised to a squeaking pitch._ _

__“No! No, Stiles, it wasn’t me.” Derek said quickly._ _

__“So then, that means, there’s another werewolf around here.”_ _

__“Yes. I think...”_ _

__“What?” Stiles asked urgently. “What do you think?”_ _

__“I think that’s why Laura came here. I think she knew, somehow.”_ _

__Stiles sat back and thought about that for a moment. “So, is it someone you knew, from...before? Wait, was Laura a werewolf? Were your whole family werewolves? When I was...” he trailed off. He’d promised himself he wasn’t going to bring up the past, at least not until the right time, and the right time was definitely not the evening after the day Derek found out his last living relative had been murdered._ _

__Derek was looking at him. “You remember.” His expression was unreadable._ _

__“Yeah, of course I do. I remember everything,” Stiles said, and put his hand into Derek’s impulsively, squeezed it._ _

__Derek inhaled. He didn’t squeeze Stiles’ hand back, but he didn’t let go either. “Yes, Laura was a werewolf. So were my mom and dad, and my uncle, and some of my cousins. Some of the pack were human though.”_ _

__“The fire...” Stiles barely whispered. “Was that an accident, or was it...did someone...because...because of what you were?”_ _

__Derek closed his eyes. He didn’t answer. Stiles took his hand out of Derek’s, and laid it on his shoulder. “Look, we might as well talk about it. I was there. I know it’s horrible, but if I understand what happened, what’s happening now, I might be able to help you.”_ _

__Derek opened his eyes and looked at Stiles. “I don’t want you involved.”_ _

__“Well, sorry man, but that ship has sailed. I am involved. I’m pretty smart, you know. I could probably help figure things out.”_ _

__“You were always smart,” Derek said, holding his gaze. “Always reading, always thinking. Used to talk a lot less, though.”_ _

__Stiles risked a small smile at him. “I talk when I’m nervous. Or excited. Or, okay, awake. Yeah, I’m chatty. Sorry?”_ _

__“I don’t mind.” Derek was back to looking inscrutable._ _

__Stiles sighed. “It’s really hard to know what you’re thinking, you know that? All right, look. I wasn’t going to bring this up tonight, or maybe ever. But I want to say it. I _have_ to say it. I’ve always wanted to have the chance. I wanted to...thank you. For being so nice to me when I was little. After my mom...well, just, thank you. And I wanted to say, I’ve wanted to say for a long long time...I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you were out taking care of me when the fire started. I’m sorry you weren’t there for your family, because of me. I feel, have always felt, so bad about that.” _ _

__Derek reached up, took Stiles’ hand from his shoulder, and brought it back down to the couch, holding it firmly. “Well, you’re welcome. It was easy to be nice to you, you were a good kid. Quiet. Easy to take care of. And as for the rest of it...” he paused, a pained look crossing his face. “You were right, what you guessed earlier. The fire was started on purpose, by people who wanted to kill us, kill my family for what we were. And if I hadn’t been out with you, I would have died too.”_ _

__“Who were they?” Stiles demanded. He felt a simmering rage._ _

__“Hunters. The kind that have been hunting us for centuries. They surrounded the house, they shot anyone who tried to escape, with special bullets that would take kill even us. They set the fires to burn in all the exits. That’s the only way they could have taken down a pack as strong as ours.”_ _

__“But why? Did you...do you hurt people? Why did they want to kill you?”_ _

__“No! No, we didn’t hurt people.”_ _

__“Did you bite people to change them? Like what happened to Scott?”_ _

__Derek shook his head. “No one had been bitten by our pack, except my cousin’s wife who asked for the bite when they got married, in dozens of years.”_ _

__“So then...I don’t understand.”_ _

__“It’s...they think we’re monsters.” Derek’s voice had no inflection._ _

__“But how could anyone meet your mom and think she was a monster?” Stiles asked in a small voice. “She was the nicest lady I’ve ever met in my life.”_ _

__Derek looked stricken. He swallowed hard. Then: “Yeah. Yeah, she was.”_ _

__“I’m sorry,” Stiles said, regretful. “I’m sorry I brought up all this old stuff.”_ _

__“No,” Derek shook his head. “I think it’s all connected. What happened ten years ago, and Laura coming back here, and her-” he swallowed again. “Her getting killed.”_ _

__Stiles squeezed Derek’s hand again. “I am going to help you figure all this out. My dad and me.”_ _

__“We can’t tell your dad about me,” Derek said automatically._ _

__“Are you crazy?” Stiles said incredulously. “We have to. If there are werewolves running around Beacon Hills, my dad is first in the line of fire. He needs to know what’s going on! Not to mention, we need to report these hunters and they need to be prosecuted for killing your whole family! And killing Laura. It was the hunters who killed Laura, wasn’t it?” he added suddenly, struck by the question._ _

__“It must have been. I don’t know. But I think so, yes.”_ _

__“There you are. They have to pay, Derek! They have to pay for what they did.”_ _

__“They will,” Derek growled._ _

__“No, not like that,” Stiles shook his head. “I’m totally sure you could do some damage with those teeth and, uh, claws and stuff, but we should do this right. Send them to prison for the rest of their lives. Otherwise, you’re going to ruin your own life. Let me help you, me and my dad. Do you know who they were? The hunters?”__

Derek rose abruptly from the couch. “Scott’s here.” 

__Stiles blinked up at him. “Wha?”_ _

__“I can smell him.”_ _

__“You can...man, that is so amazing.”_ _

__The doorbell rang._ _

__“Are you going to help him?” Stiles asked. “He doesn’t know what’s going on with him, and he’s pretty freaked out.”_ _

__“That makes two of us. Yeah, I’ll help him with what I can.”_ _

__“Thank you.” Stiles squeezed Derek’s hand one last time, then got up to let Scott in._ _

__***_ _


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek gets Scott through his first wolfy shift. The Sheriff has to come to terms with a world where werewolves are real. Stiles is a BAMF throughout, except when he has a panic attack. Still Stiles POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the idea of Scott having help through the changes he’s going through - as if Derek is the equivalent of your mom telling you about menstruation before your first period (although he does a fairly shitty job of it). I submit that the Sheriff would react pretty much like this on the show if anyone bothered to tell him what the fuck was going on in HIS OWN TOWN, for Christ’s sake. He’s a practical guy and after the initial shock, I like to think he’d just get on with things and do his job. Who knows - maybe we’ll find out in S3 (I fully expect this story to be violently Jossed, although that’s the beauty of writing your own universe).

***

“A _what_?” Scott screeched.

Derek sighed. “A werewolf.” 

Stiles’ head swiveled between them like he was watching a ping pong match. 

“Come on!” Scott protested.

Derek shrugged. Stiles watched as Scott’s face changed from amused/confused to irritated to just a little bit scared. 

“That’s not a thing!” Scott yelled. 

Stiles gave a little hiccup-y laugh. “No, it really is. I know I’ve only known that for like, forty minutes, but it really, really is a thing.” 

Scott sat down suddenly on the couch. “You’re fucking with me,” he accused them both.

Stiles shook his head. Derek just sat in the chair, impassive. Scott’s head turned between them. Now he really did look scared. “You’re saying...that’s why all this is... why I can... that’s what’s happ-”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Derek grunted, and wolfed out. 

“Holy..!!!” Scott screamed, scrambling back against the couch as far as he could go. 

Derek let the wolf fall away immediately and morphed back to normal. Stiles was never, ever going to get tired of that. 

“It’s called a shift. You can do it too. In fact, you’re not going to have a choice, and you’re going to have to learn how to control it.” 

“No,” Scott whispered. “No, that’s not...I don’t...”

“Derek, seriously, man,” Stiles intervened. “Scott is freaking out a little here. Can’t you, I don’t know, help him through it or something?” 

Derek turned uncomprehending eyes to Stiles. “I’ve never helped someone turn into a werewolf before. We were born werewolves.” 

“Uh, maybe explain what it feels like or something, so he can identify it?”

“Not possible to explain it,” Derek said, looking beyond tired at that point. “I can probably make him do it, though, if you want?” he offered.

“Do you want that?” Stiles asked Scott. 

“Um...can I talk to you for a minute? In the kitchen?” Scott asked Stiles, giving him a pleading look. 

“Sure, dude.” 

“Stiles,” Scott hissed once they were in the kitchen, grabbing Stiles’ arm. “Dude. What the fuck? How well do you know this guy? What the fuck is going on?”

Stiles tried to use a soothing, patient tone, although all he really wanted to do was watch Scott turn into a _freaking werewolf_. “I’ve known him since I was little. I trust him. Nothing bad will happen. He said he’d help you through this.”

Scott shook his head. “This is insane.” 

“I know!” Stiles enthused. “You’re a freaking werewolf!”

“You should not be so excited by this.” Scott wagged a finger at him. “All right. Let’s say I-”

Derek’s voice came through from the living room. “You guys know I can hear you, right?” 

Scott and Stiles looked at each other.

“I’ve had a long day,” Derek continued. “It’s been a pretty shitty day too, and I’d like to get some sleep at some point, or at least lie somewhere quietly and not sleep, so can we get on with this?”

Scott and Stiles turned as one and, heads down, walked back into the living room. Scott walked over to Derek, who stood up and squared off with Scott.

Scott took a deep breath. “All right. I’m ready.”

“No you’re not,” Derek replied, shifted in an instant, and roared in Scott’s face. The roar was deep, sonorous; Stiles’ mom’s decorative plates shook in their wire hangers on the wall. Stiles jumped back, and his felt his eyes go huge as something long-buried from deep in his past raised its head, shook off some cobwebs, and leapt with claws flashing back into his consciousness. He felt himself sinking to the ground, his heart pounding madly, gasping for breath- 

_A manic screaming tear through the night woods, the smell of smoke, the flash of police lights, a sobbing girl, his father’s arms strong around him, the look of terror and grief on Derek’s face that seared into his soul..._

“Stiles!” 

Stiles came back to himself with Derek’s back pressed against his front. He was a wall of muscle; Stiles pushed feebly against it from his slumped-over position against the wall, trying to figure out what was going on. 

“Just stay there!” Derek yelled. “Stay behind me!” Stiles became aware of a snarling sound as the rushing in his ears receded. He peeked over Derek’s shoulder and saw...holy shit, Scott. Scott was fully fucking wolfed out. He looked different from Derek; while Derek seemed to have no eyebrows when he shifted, Scott’s were about twice as thick as normal, and he had a deep widow’s peak of coarse hair down his forehead. His eyes were a bright, pulsating gold and they were fixated...oh. They were fixated on Stiles, and they were filled with an animal rage. 

He could see from the tips of Derek’s ears and the amount of hair on the sides of his face that he’d also shifted. Derek was growling back at Scott, his hands on either side of Stiles bracketing him behind Derek. 

“Scott?” Stiles managed weakly.

“He doesn’t know where he is, who you are right now,” Derek explained, voice grim. “He’d kill you if he could get to you. I can try-” he crossed the room in a flash and grabbed Scott, slamming him to the floor, his arm across Scott’s throat. He roared in his face, baring his teeth at Scott. Scott whimpered, but struggled against Derek, trying to get free. Derek held him with an iron grip, though. 

Stiles slowly rose to his feet. “Scott,” he murmured, feeling like he might throw up. He was just starting to get his breath back and his heart was still racing. “Scott, it’s me.”

Scott gave a strange raspy questioning noise and his weird gold eyes turned toward Stiles. He snarled again, but it seemed less angry than before. 

“Scott. You’re my friend. We’re best friends. You know me.” Stiles started to approach the pair.

“Stiles, stay back,” Derek ordered. 

“No,” Stiles insisted. “Scott wouldn’t hurt me, not if he knew what he was doing.”

“That’s exactly the point! He _doesn’t_ -”

“Stiles! Move aside and give me a clear shot!” His father’s voice behind him held a thread of panic, but was mostly controlled and steely. 

_Oh, FUCK_.

Stiles turned, hands raised, to see his father gripping his service revolver in both hands, with the barrel pointed at the floor. He stepped quickly between his father and the other two. “Dad, holster the gun. We’re having a bit of a situation right now, but I promise I’m not in any da-”

“Sheriff, get Stiles out of here right now!” Derek shouted, still pinning the struggling Scott to the floor. 

“Is that - Derek?” Stiles’ dad’s voice was hoarse with shock. 

“Yeah, Dad, it’s Derek. And Scott. And werewolves are real. But can we do this another time, because I need to-”

Derek roared, inhumanly loud. “STILES. SHERIFF. GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE. NOW!”

Stiles decided Derek probably had the better plan here. He walked toward his father, arms out. “Dad, come with me. Don’t shoot anyone, you’ll be sorry later if you shoot someone, just come with me right now and we’ll sit outside on the front porch, okay? I’ll be right here with you, right beside you, okay?” He made soft soothing noises and tried to make his own face look less freaked the fuck out than he felt at that moment. He made sure to stay between his dad and the pair still on the floor. Stiles’ father looked like he’d been hit on the head with something heavy, but he allowed Stiles to push him gently backwards, then turned and walked rapidly out the front door and onto the porch with him, slamming the door behind them.

“I need to call for backup,” his father said immediately, holstering his gun and reaching for his cell phone. 

“No, no, Dad, no you don’t.” Stiles pushed his hand away. “That’s Derek and Scott in there. They’re...working something out. We just need to wait here.” A high-pitched snarl came from inside the house, followed by the sound of breaking glass. “I’m sure that was nothing,” Stiles said immediately. 

“Stiles, what the hell is going on?” his father demanded, looking thoroughly freaked out. 

“Werewolves, Dad. They’re werewolves. Why don’t you sit right here, and I’ll explain a few things to you, and then we’ll see how everything is going in there a little later? Huh? How does that sound?” 

“It sounds like I’m losing my damned mind, Stiles,” Stiles’ father muttered, but he sat down in the chair Stiles was pointing to and didn’t reach for his gun or cell phone, so Stiles called that a win. 

For an hour, Stiles explained things to his dad. He explained everything he knew so far about werewolves, and Derek and his family, and Scott’s mysterious animal bite and subsequent symptoms, and the hunters and the Hale fire, and Laura’s murder. He was just getting to the part where they’d stupidly decided to make Scott wolf out on purpose and Stiles was glossing over the bit where Scott _wanted to kill him_ , when Derek opened the door and leaned the top half of his body out, back to his non-wolf form. 

“Um, you guys can come in now, if you want.” 

Stiles’ dad looked up at Derek, and his face was a confusing mixture of fear, incomprehension, awe, anger, and a touch of hysteria. He finally settled on a wry expression and said, “Back into my own house, you mean? Thanks.”

_Sarcasm is good_ , Stiles thought. _Sarcasm is the sign of a healthy Stilinski mind._

“Come on, Dad. Let’s let them explain.” 

Derek left the door open and Stiles and his dad followed him back into the living room. Scott was sitting on the couch, his t-shirt ripped to shreds and drenched in sweat. Stiles was relieved to see he was back to normal, too, and didn’t look injured. Derek stood well out of the way, against the far wall. 

“I broke a lamp,” was the first thing Scott said. 

Stiles barked out a laugh, feeling a bit overwrought by the events of the day. “Yeah, I think that’s the least of our concerns at this point.”

“I’m really sorry,” Scott continued, hanging his head. “Stiles, I’m really sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Stiles’ dad demanded.

“Because I was-”

“He was just a little out of control,” Stiles broke in quickly. “No harm, no foul. It was his first time.” He turned pleading eyes on Scott, who cut himself off and remained silent. 

“All right,” Stiles’ dad said, heaving a sigh. “Stiles has explained some of this to me, but I’m going to need a lot, _a lot_ more explanation, right the hell now. And it’s going to come from you.” He turned an icy stare on Derek. “Were you the one who did this to Scott?”

“No!” Scott broke in. “Derek’s trying to help me. There’s another one.”

“Another...jesus, I can’t believe I’m saying this...another werewolf?” Stiles’ dad asked. 

“Yes,” Derek answered. “It’s called an Alpha. He’s the one who bit Scott. And I think he’s the reason Laura came back here.”

“How do you know that?” Stiles demanded. “What were you two talking about in here?”

Scott looked at Derek. “He helped me remember more of what happened, the night I was bitten. He helped me use my senses. I know it wasn’t Derek. He doesn’t smell the same. And this - the Alpha, I mean, it was...not like us.”

“How was it different?” Stiles asked.

“It was in Alpha form,” Derek explained. “More like a wolf, less...human, I guess.”

“But you’re not human,” Stiles’ father said flatly. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t throw you out of my house right now, or arrest you. You put my son in danger. What the hell were you thinking, Derek?”

“Dad!” Stiles protested.

Derek flinched like he’d been hit, but recovered himself quickly. “I’ll go if you want me to, Sheriff. I understand. But I will say this. You knew my mom. You knew my sister. You knew my whole family, for years and years. My mom was an Alpha, like the one who bit Scott. And so was my sister, after my mom...after my mom died. Do you think my mom was a monster? Do you think she would have hurt Stiles?”

Stiles’ dad’s expression wavered. He looked a bit mutinous, but finally spat out, “No, I don’t.”

“No,” Derek said, shaking his head. “She never would have let anything happen to Stiles, or any of us, if she could have prevented it. She was a good person, Sheriff. My family were good people. And we were hunted just because of what we are, what they were. My sister died because of what she was.” 

Stiles’ dad sighed again, and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m going to need a lot more information about all of this, but first of all, Scott, are you all right?”

Scott nodded. “I think so, Sheriff.”

“Does your mom know where you are? It’s after 11:00, you know.”

Scott nodded again. “I told her I was coming over here. I can go home, if you-”

“No you can’t,” Derek cut Scott off. “You need to be with me, for now, until we can work on your control some more.”

“Control?” Stiles’ dad asked, looking angry again. 

“It’s fine, Dad,” Stiles broke in hastily. “Derek can help him. Do you think Scott could stay the night tonight?”

Derek looked at Scott. “You and I should probably find a place to stay tonight and figure out-”

The Sheriff interrupted him, looking irritated. “No one’s going anywhere tonight. We’re going to sit here, all of you idiots, and figure this out together. Scott, call your mom and tell her you’re staying here tonight. Stiles, get me something to eat, I’m going to pass out over here, I haven’t eaten all day. And you,” he pointed to Derek, then the chair. “Sit. Start talking, and don’t stop until I know everything.”

***  
Stiles found himself uncharacteristically on the fringes of the epic conversation that ensued in his living room. Mostly Derek talked and his father asked short, probing questions and then Derek talked some more. Stiles thought he’d never seen anyone look as tired as Derek did. Hours passed.

Scott edged closer and closer to Stiles on the couch, until his shoulder bumped against Stiles’. Stiles turned to look at him, and Scott had full puppy eyes boring into his. He mouthed _I’m sorry_ again, and Stiles just shook his head and slung an arm around Scott’s shoulders. Scott burrowed his head against Stiles’ shoulder and they sat there like that, listening. 

Derek told Stiles’ dad everything he knew about the hunters, the fire, Laura’s disappearance, and his suspicions that everything was related. Stiles’ dad had started taking notes somewhere along the way, and he was filling his notebook pages quickly as he jotted down dates and identifying details. 

Derek also explained some things to Scott as they went along. “Being bitten is different from being born a werewolf. You’ll have to learn some things that I absorbed from my family before I was old enough to even be aware of them. You should really have a strong Alpha guiding you through this. If we can find the one who bit you, he might be able to-”

“What makes you think he’s going to be...friendly?” Stiles’ dad interrupted. 

Derek stopped, struck by that. “I....I don’t know. I guess I don’t really have a lot of experience with...unfriendly ones of my kind. My family’s pack was strong, and this territory was ours for a long time, dozens of generations. We didn’t really have to deal with encroachment. I guess I...I guess I was pretty sheltered.”

“Well, we need to figure out who this guy - it’s a guy, isn’t it?” Stiles’ dad asked.

Derek and Scott nodded.

“We need to figure out who this guy is before we can determine if he can be helpful to Scott or any of us, anyway. And speaking of helpful, I’m not sure how much more we can get through tonight. It’s after 2:00 in the morning. You look ready to drop.” He paused, looking at Derek, then said, “Look, I’m convinced you didn’t deliberately put Stiles into danger, and that you won’t hurt us. The offer still stands to stay here for now, if you want to.” He paused again. “I want to help you, son. This is a lot for you to carry alone, and there are legal ramifications of what you’ve told me that make it so I _should_ be involved. And...and I owe it to your mother. She was good to my son, and to me.”

Derek stared at Stiles’ dad with a blank expression, but Stiles was starting to learn about what his posture and all his different minute eyebrow movements meant. He wasn’t surprised, therefore, when Derek said, quietly,

“Thank you, Sheriff. I think...I think I need all the help I can get.” He looked beaten down, but cautiously grateful. 

Stiles’ father rose and put his hand on Derek’s shoulder. “S’all right. Get some rest. We’ll talk more tomorrow after my shift. Scott, you bed down here in the living room with Derek. You know where the pillows and blankets are. Stiles, you sleep in your room.”

“But Dad!” Stiles protested.

“I don’t want to hear it,” his father cut him off. “You’ll keep them up all night pestering them with a million questions and nobody will get any sleep. It’s not a werewolf slumber party. Go to bed. Now.”

***

Stiles lay in bed, exhausted but with his mind still buzzing from the extraordinary, unbelievable, mind-melting day he’d had. He tried to relax enough to go to sleep, but his brain kept darting around, remembering little bits of details Derek had told them, fitting puzzle pieces together. 

He must have drifted off at some point, although he didn’t remember falling asleep. 

_He was in the woods, the night pitch black around him. Steel arms were around him, and he was jouncing along in their grip, listening to the heavy steady pounding of a heartbeat under his ear. They were flying, too fast, too fast to be real. And then the roar shook his whole body, made him cover his ears, terrified him into_

Wakefulness. He sat straight up in bed, heart pounding out of his chest. A figure stood in the doorway of his room, a black silhouette outlined against the lighter hallway. 

“Stiles?” came the whisper. 

“Derek?” Stiles rasped. His throat was dry with terror. 

Derek came into the room. He approached Stiles’ bed cautiously. “Are you all right? I heard your heart beating fast...”

“You can hear that?” Stiles whispered.

“It woke me up,” Derek said. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just...nightmare.” Stiles grimaced. “Sorry to wake you. Is Scott okay?”

“Yeah. He’s asleep.”

“Is he - is he going to be okay?” Stiles asked. 

Derek sat heavily on the edge of Stiles’ bed. “I think so. I hope so. I was never...I’m not an Alpha, Stiles. It’s the reason I couldn’t get him to submit to me completely, earlier. I’m a Beta, like him. We’re...sort of on the same level.”

“Yeah, except he has no idea what he’s doing,” Stiles pointed out. 

“Well, that I can help him with,” Derek said. “It’ll take some time.”

“And in the meantime? He can’t go around ripping people’s faces off when he wolfs out.”

“That’s the first thing we’re going to fix,” Derek said. “He needs to find an anchor, something to focus on to control the shift and his reactions to it. It’s not too hard, once he understands what he’s trying to do. At least, I think it’s not.”

“You think? That’s not reassuring, dude.”

“I never had to do this, Stiles,” Derek said quietly, looking down at his hands. “Or rather, I knew how to control my shift when I was four years old. It’s different for Scott. Anyway, I’ll go back down now. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.” He started to rise, but Stiles laid a hand on his forearm. 

“Can you...it’s been a hell of a day, Derek. Do you think you could-”

“Yeah, what happened to you earlier?” Derek interrupted.

Stiles felt cold. He tried to play it off. “What do you mean?”

“When Scott shifted, you passed out. I didn’t expect it. I mean with somebody else, yeah, but you didn’t pass out when I shifted in front of you. Is it because Scott’s your friend that it freaked you out so much?”

Stiles looked away. “You’re my friend,” he said, trying to deflect.

Derek wasn’t put off. “Come on, Stiles. What is it you’re not telling me? I can hear your heartbeat, you know. I know when you’re lying, or hiding something.”

“That is...well, that’s just an invasion of privacy, is what that is,” Stiles grumbled, playing for time. 

Derek waited him out.

Stiles let out an explosive sigh. His eyes felt gritty, burn-y with tiredness. “It wasn’t Scott.”

Derek remained silent.

“It was...look, I don’t want you to think I’m scared of you, okay? Because I’m not. I meant it when I said you’re my friend. And that I want to help you. But....it was just...when you, um, roared at Scott.”

Derek looked confused in the gloom. “Were you afraid I was going to hurt him? Or you?”

“No. No, that’s not it. It just reminded me of...that night, in the woods. The fire. You roared then, when you were carrying me. I think I repressed it. I didn’t remember it until tonight. And it just...it sort of threw me back there, and I know it’s stupid but I think I might have had a little panic attack thingy...and now you’re looking all miserable and guilty again which is why I didn’t want to tell you, come on Derek,” and he shook Derek’s arm a little. “It was just an old memory. I’m over it.”

“Is that what you were dreaming about?” Derek asked warily.

Stiles sighed. “Yes.”

Derek pushed Stiles’ hand away from his arm and rose. “You’re afraid of me.”

Stiles pushed himself onto his knees, reached out for Derek again, clutched his arm. “No! I’m not! I swear I’m not. Listen to my heartbeat, listen if I’m telling the truth.” He said it again, slowly: “I’m not scared of you.”

Derek stood there, then nodded, once. He still looked guilty, though.

“Anyway,” Stiles continued. “What I was going to ask you was, because of the hell of a day I’ve had, and you’ve had, I wondered...can I have a hug?”

Derek looked completely blank, but his eyebrows made tiny complicated twitches.

“Right. Why don’t you just stand there, then, and I’ll-” he made a move to stand up, but suddenly Derek’s arms were around him, hugging him tight.

“Oof.” The air exploded out of Stiles’ lungs. “Good, great, you’re a hugger. That’s good to know.” He put his arms around Derek’s neck, hugged him back, patted his back. Took comfort in the simple soothing relief of Derek’s strong arms holding him close, Derek’s chest pressed against his. They stayed that way for maybe longer than a normal hug would last, but Stiles wasn’t timing it or anything. Finally, Derek released him, slowly. He rose and moved to the door, then turned back, standing in the doorway. 

“Goodnight, Stiles,” he mumbled.

“Goodnight, Derek,” Stiles whispered back.

***


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to Derek’s POV. Derek figures out how to help Scott. And we find out just what Derek did, and didn’t, tell the Sheriff about the night of the fire and events preceding. I finally establish where we are in time too (in the year, I mean), in case that’s been bugging you. There’s a long scene with Derek and Scott that you might get the creeping suspicion feels a little pre-slashy, but I PROMISE YOU IT’S NOT. That is not where this story is going, not at all. My OTP is your OTP, promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My theory is that Derek throws himself into helping Scott and solving the mystery of the fire because it’s easier than sitting still with his feelings about Laura’s death and being the last of his family (or so he thinks MUAHAHAHA duhn duhn DUUUUUHN). 
> 
>  
> 
> The pace of this story is slow, isn’t it? I mean, I think a lot is happening, but it’s only been not-even-a-day since we’ve been back in the present. I’m trying to pick up the pace a bit, but I feel like a bunch of things need to be established before we can really start rolling along and skipping days/weeks here and there. Hopefully it’s not too slow for you all! Trying to avoid too many trips to the Department of Backstory now.
> 
> Gosh, thank you guys again, so much, for the comments and kudos. I’m writing this for my own satisfaction of fixing with fic, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say that knowing other people are reading it and enjoying it motivates me far more. It means I can’t stop writing this story until it’s finished. And it means I don’t want to. I appreciate your taking a chance on reading a WIP where you don’t know where it’s going or even how long it will be. I’ll try to respect your trust by giving you a fully fleshed-out story that satisfies on multiple levels. 
> 
> A note on updating: This story’s been pouring itself out of me so far, the words piling up easily. I suspect it won’t always come so easily. And work and other life things will sometimes get in the way. I’ve averaged over 4000 words a day for 5 days. It’s unbeta’d, I should mention. (I like to think that’s okay because I beta so much of other people’s writing, but I’m sure that’s completely wrong. Do feel free to point out SPAG/continuity/other errors if you find them!) I write it, editing a bit as I go, give it a final going-over, and then post it here and LJ. It’s coming out of my brain a couple of hours before you’re reading it, is what I’m saying. So if my brain delays, your updates are going to be delayed too. I’m not suffering a block right now or anything, but I just wanted to temper expectations. Do please subscribe if you’re enjoying it so far! 
> 
> Lastly, a note about Jackson (I guess skip this paragraph if you’ve managed to remain unspoiled about pre-Season 3 developments as they've been widely disseminated and want to keep it that way): I actually want your input on this. My feelings about Jackson are complicated and varied, but basically here it is: I don’t like what he and his storyline did to Season 2. The kanima was a stupid plot arc and it didn’t advance the character development of any of the main characters (with the possible exceptions of Allison and Lydia, but that was not a direct influence). Or rather, I think the character development they achieved in S2 (WHAT THERE WAS OF IT; GET IT TOGETHER, SHOW) would have happened without the kanima storyline. Without turning Jackson into the kanima, there isn’t really a huge central place for him in this ‘verse, other than as Lydia’s sometimes boyfriend and the co-captain of the lacrosse team who gives Scott a hard time. In other words, I’m leaning towards removing the whole “Jackson harasses/stalks Scott through S1, manipulates and blackmails everyone until he gets the bite, turns into kanima” storyline entirely (especially because **SPOILER** he’s not going to be back in S3 anyway so any fruition of the rather scattered character development we’ve gotten with him so far has now been made impossible). But I wonder: is Jackson a character you guys are particularly devoted to? Would you miss him/the kanima a lot in the context of this story? I can see there is potential with his character (the whole “being adopted, pushing himself to be the best” angle is interesting) but for the most part, he’s really just kind of a douche, isn’t he? Am I missing something? What do you think? Tell me in the comments!

***

Derek opened his eyes at dawn the morning after talking to the Sheriff, Stiles, and Scott. It was a Sunday, mid-September. The watery sun lit the room fitfully. 

He stared up at the ceiling for a moment, as the events of the previous day washed over him in a sickening rush. 

_Laura is dead._

He closed his eyes, let that roll over him for a while. Felt sick, swallowed a couple of times, waited for it to pass. Then he opened them and turned his head to look down at the floor. Scott was burrowed into a nest of pillow and blankets there, hugged close to the couch.

He closed his eyes again, listened to the house. He could hear Stiles’ heartbeat, sleep-steady and calm, and the Sheriff’s, also asleep, but more restless. He knew he needed to sleep more himself, and he also knew there was no way he was going to. 

He’d told the Sheriff everything. Well, not everything. He’d left out one small, very important detail that he just couldn’t bring himself to share. Kate. His heart turned over in his chest thinking about it, drowning in that old shame.

“Derek?” came a sleepy whisper from below him. He rolled his head to the side and met Scott’s eyes. 

“Hey,” Derek said.

“Hey,” Scott answered. “Your heartbeat woke me.”

“Sorry.”

“No worries. Is that something that will always happen?”

Derek shook his head. “You get used to the sounds of your own house, the people in it. You know everyone’s heartbeat, what it should sound like, and the variations. It’s easy, after a while, to hear when something’s wrong. The rest you can just tune out, even when you’re asleep.”

“Yours sounds like something is wrong.” Scott frowned. 

“Yeah.” Derek closed his eyes, concentrated for a moment. “Can you hear that?”

“Yes.”

“That hitch, the sort of glitch there?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s sadness. Grief, I guess.”

Scott’s mouth turned down at the corners. “Your sister.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m really sorry, man.”

Derek didn’t answer, rolled back so he was staring at the ceiling again. “We’re going to work on your control today.”

“Good, because I need to be able to go home without worrying I’m going to attack my mom. And go to school!”

“I know. We’ve got a day to get you ready for school, or else you’re going to have to invent a sickness that your mom will buy and I’ll have to hide away in your house, sleep in your closet or something.”

Scott gave him a weak smile. “That would be pretty funny. ‘Hey mom, don’t look in my closet, there’s a werewolf in there.’”

Derek quirked his mouth back at Scott. “Our definitions of ‘funny’ are very different.” 

Scott’s face got serious again. “Listen, uh. I just wanted to say thanks. For last night.”

Derek nodded simply, didn’t say anything. 

Scott continued. “It would have killed me if I’d hurt Stiles, or his dad. He’s my best friend.”

“I know.” Derek closed his eyes, thinking of how vulnerable Stiles had looked, face white as he passed out against the wall, when Scott lunged for him. He felt sick thinking of all the things that could have gone wrong; what if he hadn’t crossed the room in time...

“How did you, you know, get me out of it?”

“I just...dominated you until you submitted. Sort of. You mostly got yourself out of it.” 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m not an Alpha, and I’m not _your_ Alpha. I can’t dominate you completely, not the way you need to maintain control,” Derek admitted. “We’re going to have to figure out another way. I think I know of one.”

“What is it?” Scott asked. 

“I don’t want to try it here, not with Stiles and his dad in the house, in case it doesn’t work.”

“Oh, come on! I need to learn this, Derek, and I can’t go home until I do. I promise I’ll do my best to control it. I was even starting to feel the difference, last night. I was starting to feel the thread of how to find my way back.”

Derek frowned. “It’s too dangerous.” 

Scott sighed. “At least explain to me your idea,” he pleaded.

 _Why do I always have teenagers pleading with me about things these days?_ Derek asked himself.

“I think, I don’t know, but I think it might be a better approach to keep it very...wolf-y.”

“Like how?”

“Well, I mean, I’m not an Alpha, and your wolf knows that. But I am a Beta like you, and there are ways that pack Betas comfort each other, help each other, without dominance. All on the same level, as it were.” 

Scott looked confused. “Are we in the same pack?”

Derek looked at him. “Until we find your Alpha, we don’t really have much choice, unless you want to try and go it alone.” He shrugged.

Scott shook his head. “No way. I thought I was going crazy until last night.” 

“Okay.”

Scott grinned suddenly. “Pack mates!” 

Derek sighed. “Yes.” _Seriously. Who picked this kid?_

“That’s pretty cool, man! I mean, Stiles likes you, so I’m sure I will, and, I guess, I’ve never had any brothers or sisters, so...”

Derek just looked at him. 

“All right, I can see you’re not the outwardly affectionate type. Just...tell me your idea.” Scott seemed unreasonably cheerful. 

Derek looked at him, couldn’t resist that happy puppy face. “Oh screw it, let’s try it. But if you hurt anybody, I swear I’ll put you down like a dog.” He kept his face stern. Scott nodded enthusiastically, smiling. Derek rose from the couch, then sat down beside Scott on the floor. “Lie back down.” Scott complied. Derek lay behind him.

“Now, just...relax,” Derek said, and wrapped his arms around Scott from behind, gripping with his arms underneath Scott’s, spooning him. He brought his arms back over Scott’s shoulders from the front and linked his hands behind Scott’s head, hugging Scott tight against his front, restricting his movements. “I know this is weird.”

“Seriously weird, man. Isn’t this a wrestling hold”

“Yeah. But touch is very important in pack dynamics. Touch, and...and scent.”

Scott moved suddenly under Derek’s grip. “Scent?” 

“Yeah. Scent marking.”

“Marking?” Scott yelped. 

“Hold still,” Derek ordered, and breathed out on the back of Scott’s neck. 

“Seriously, _seriously_ weird!” Scott said, but softly. 

“It’s not sexual or anything. Just in case you were worried.” 

“Uh, I wasn’t before you said that, dude!” 

“Just, shut up a second.” He held Scott there tightly, relaxed his own breathing and heart rate, and waited, steadily breathing out on Scott to mark him. Eventually, he felt Scott’s heart and breathing sync up with his own. 

“Wow, that is cool,” Scott remarked. “I feel, like, totally relaxed.” 

“That’s the idea. Now try shifting.” 

Derek waited. Nothing happened.

“I don’t...I don’t know what I’m looking for,” Scott said apologetically. 

“Try to remember how it felt last night.”

Minutes passed. Derek kept his heart rate steady, refusing to think about everything else that was going on, concentrating on just this one thing. 

“I can feel it,” Scott mumbled.

“Right. Slow and steady.” 

Scott’s heart rate increased until Derek knew there was no turning back, and then he felt the bones under him morphing as Scott slid into a slow shift. He shifted in response, knowing Scott’s wolf would respond better if they were both in Beta form. 

“That’s good,” he reassured gruffly, gripping Scott even tighter, slightly cutting off his air. He breathed against Scott’s neck. 

“Scott?” he asked finally. 

“I’m...I’m here,” Scott answered faintly. 

“Really good,” Derek answered. Scott’s hands gripped the front of Derek’s arms, claws digging in. 

“It’s hard to control.”

“Concentrate on your breathing, your heart.” He waited another few minutes, felt Scott’s claws come out of his arm and the small wounds heal. 

“Right, now try shifting back.”

It took a long time, several attempts on Scott’s part, and at least two instances of Derek needing to gently cuff him around the back of the head, but eventually Scott was back to himself and Derek released him.

Scott looked at him with something like awe. “I...I controlled it! I can control it!”

“Yeah,” Derek answered. “You did good.” 

“Jesus, _thank you_. I was, god, I was so scared I was going to have to take myself off into the woods somewhere, live out the rest of my days as a hermit so I wouldn’t kill everyone I know.” 

Derek didn’t say anything, face expressionless. 

“It’s really hard to know what you’re thinking, do you know that?” Scott complained, stretching his back. “Hey, let’s go show Stiles!” 

Derek cuffed him again, but gently. “We’ve got a lot more practice to do before we do that.” 

***

A few hours later, dawn had given way to morning, and Derek and Scott were going up the stairs to Stiles’ room. 

“If you hurt him...” Derek growled. 

“Derek, I just shifted back on your command 14 times in a row. 14 times. I’m not going to hurt him.” 

“It’ll be different when you’re in the room, with his human smell.”

“Dude, I can smell him right now! It’ll be fine.” 

Derek shoved him out of the way and leaned his head into Stiles’ room first. Stiles was asleep with his covers flung off, cheeks flushed pink, mouth open and drooling a little. He was wearing nothing but a pair of Batman boxer shorts, and was sporting impressive morning wood. Derek entered the room with Scott behind him and cleared his throat, embarrassed. Stiles’ eyes flew open and he locked eyes with Derek for a minute before coming back to himself, flailing as he scrambled to cover himself up to the waist. 

“Um, morning!” Stiles croaked, waving an arm in the air. “Hi! Everyone’s here! Did you sleep all right? I slept really well, when I finally got to sleep, which must have been, hey what time is it, anyway? So anyway, here you both are, in my bedroom, and I’m not wearing pants, which is awesome, so-”

“His Adderall wears off by now,” Scott muttered to Derek. 

“Completely irrelevant, but thanks Scott!” Stiles waved cheerfully, giving Scott the finger. “What brings my two favorite werewolves to my bedroom at ass-o’clock in the morning, then?”

“It’s 8:30,” Derek said flatly. 

“On a Sunday!” Stiles protested. “Which is like, 6:00 a.m. on a normal day.”

“I want to show you something!” Scott said, and Derek watched as Scott turned the happy puppy face on Stiles. Stiles grimaced and looked at Derek. “Has he used this on you yet?”

Derek closed his eyes and prayed for strength.

“I know, man, I know,” Stiles said soothingly. “There’s no escape from it, it’s like a tractor beam, following you around the room until you give him what he wants.” He sighed and turned back to Scott. “Go on. Lay it on me.” 

Derek moved swiftly across the room and stood in front of Stiles, waiting. Stiles knelt up on the bed and peeked around him, resting his chin on Derek’s shoulder. Scott closed his eyes and Derek knew he was concentrating on his own heartbeat and on Derek’s. The room was still. Then Scott shifted, bones moving easily beneath the skin into position. Derek heard Stiles suck in a breath behind him as Scott opened his eyes and locked them on Stiles’. 

“Hi,” Scott said in a bit of a growl, but he was in control and Derek knew it. 

“YES!” Stiles shouted. “You learned to control it!” 

Derek ignored him. “Shift back. Now.” 

Instantly Scott’s face rearranged itself. Stiles leapt out of bed and vaulted past Derek to hug Scott. “You are awesome!” he crowed. “You are the actual best!” 

Scott grinned. “I know, right?” 

“Seriously, how did you learn to control it so fast? Since last night?”

“We’ve been up for hours,” Scott explained. “Derek’s been helping me. This is all him.”

Stiles turned to Derek. “Then I guess I should say, YOU are the actual best. Thank you. You freaking rock.” 

Derek stood with his arms crossed and no expression, monitoring Scott’s heart now that he, Derek, wasn’t between Scott and Stiles anymore. He had to admit, he was privately enjoying the look of admiration on Stiles’ face. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at him like that. 

“Hey, lighten up, big guy,” Stiles said, crossing to him and punching him lightly on the arm. “You did a good thing here.”

“I’m taking a shower,” Derek grunted, turning around. He turned back and pointed at Scott. “No shifting when I’m not here. If I find out you did, I’ll rip your face off. With my teeth.”

“Yeah, all right, damn, dude. I thought we were pack mates!”

“ _What?_ " Stiles screeched. “When did this happen? How come I’m not in the pack? What’s up with-”

But Derek had already left the room.

***

The Sheriff got up around 9:00 and left for work, taking Derek aside for a private conversation that mostly consisted of him threatening Derek about all the ways he’d find to kill a werewolf if anything happened to Stiles, or to a lesser extent Scott, while he was gone. He told Derek to stop by the station in the afternoon to get some statements down; Derek debated to himself about telling the Sheriff about Kate then. 

Everyone took showers and Stiles cooked them all a big breakfast. Derek realized he was starving; his appetite had returned for the first time since he couldn’t remember when. He ate almost an entire pound of bacon by himself; he figured it was his right since he was bigger than the other two. Stiles watched him, open-mouthed, as he shoveled in piece after piece. 

“You eat more than anyone I know. And I’m a growing teenage boy!” Stiles said in awe.

“Dude, he’s built like a Mack truck,” Scott pointed out. “I’m guessing you need a lot of food to keep muscles like that big and strong. Plus, we’re predators. We need our meat.” He grinned at Stiles with his mouth full of scrambled egg. 

“Uh uh,” Stiles warned, waving his fork. “There’s going to be none of this ‘we’ business, all secretive and pack between you two and I get left out. No. I brought the werewolf home, I get to be involved!” His face looked mutinous. Derek snorted and poured himself another glass of orange juice. 

They spent the morning training Scott in the living room. Or rather, Derek trained Scott while Stiles watched, providing “helpful” commentary with his laptop on his knee, researching werewolf hunters. 

“Dude, is it true there’s a royal family of werewolf hunt - hey, watch that lamp,” Stiles warned as Scott, in full Beta form, swung perilously close to a side table where Derek had thrown him. 

Derek growled low in his throat and tackled Scott to the ground. “There’s no royal family,” he grunted, pinning Scott down with his knee against Scott’s neck. “This is ridiculous. We need more space.” 

“Let’s go to the preserve,” Stiles suggested, snapping his laptop shut. “It’s nice out, and you and Scott can run around like puppies. I might have collars made with your names embroidered on them.” He beamed at them both. 

Derek glared at him, then turned around and picked up his jacket. 

“He’s generally uncommunicative, but I like him,” Scott told Stiles. 

“Agreed. Think we’ll keep him,” Stiles replied. 

“You two are both idiots,” Derek commented. 

“I know. It’s part of our charm,” Stiles said with a blinding smile. Derek actually felt himself smile back, and it was such an alien expression on his face these days that he was taken aback; the smile dropped off his face and he turned away. “Let’s go,” he said shortly.

***

“This was a good idea,” Stiles continued. He hadn’t stopped talking since they’d piled into the Jeep and driven to the preserve. He’d driven them to a path entrance well away from either the Hale house or the area where Laura was found; Derek was quietly grateful. He was walking beside Derek through the cool woods, dew still glistened on the underbrush where the sun hadn’t yet penetrated. Stiles was carrying a picnic basket. Scott was up ahead, shifted into Beta form, learning how to run the way Derek had taught him, on all fours. Derek remained silent. 

“No, seriously, because this way Scott can blow off steam and he’ll be less likely to shift by accident, right?”

Derek grunted in the affirmative. 

“You’re very grunt-y, you know that? I don’t remember you being so...silent.”

“You were the one who was silent,” Derek answered. 

“Yeah, well, I had post-traumatic stress. Is this post-traumatic stress with you, because of Laura, or are you always like this?”

Derek reflected that he’d probably be offended or irritated if someone else had casually brought up his sister and the fact he’d just found out she was dead the day before, but with Stiles it was somehow okay. There was no malice there, Stiles was just perpetually curious, about everything.

“I’m pretty quiet, I guess,” Derek answered finally. 

“And what about smiling? It’s okay to smile even when everything sucks, you know. It might even make you feel better.” 

Derek looked at him grimly.

“Yeah, well, maybe we’ll work up to that. So, you think Scott will be ready for school tomorrow? And to go home tonight?”  
“I think so. Might tag along to the school tomorrow, stay out of sight, just keep an eye on things.”

“Dude, stalker.”

“Whatever.”

“You’re being really great, you know that?” Stiles said, bumping into Derek’s shoulder with his own. His voice was serious now. “You’re being super patient with him, and helping him to feel confident he can deal with it. Thank you. Again.”

Derek didn’t say anything, but he bumped Stiles back with his own shoulder. Stiles grinned and said

“You know, you’re pretty damned amazing-looking when you smile. I wish I saw it more often,” and then his face turned bright red. 

Derek listened carefully to the uptick in Stiles’ heart rate and moved away a little. 

“No! I didn’t mean- I just meant - oh hell, forget it.” Stiles put his head down and watched his feet shuffling through the leaves. They walked in silence for a couple of minutes, entering a clearing.

Suddenly Derek raised his head, scenting the air. Scott was approaching, at speed. Derek shoved Stiles against a tree and put his back to him, turning away from him and back to the clearing they were in.

“Oh, for Christ’s-” Stiles began protesting from behind him, trapped between the tree and Derek.

Scott burst from the treeline, galloping on all fours, and then skidded to a stop in front of Derek. Derek shifted on the fly and bared his teeth at Scott, pushing back against Stiles to keep him where he was. Scott didn’t react, just stood up and shifted back, then smiled at Derek. 

“Good job protecting our puny human friend, man, but I’m cool. Was just excited about running. It’s freaking awesome like that!”

Derek relaxed, moved away from Stiles. 

“Seriously, stop shoving me against stuff!” Stiles said with a wounded air, straightening his hoodie.

“No, he should,” Scott replied seriously. “You don’t know how strong we are, Stiles, how much stronger than you.”

“Thanks. My manhood is basically never going to recover,” Stiles griped. 

“Can we practice for real now?” Scott begged. 

“Practice what?” Stiles asked, dropping down into a cross-legged position and pulling the picnic basket closer to him. 

“Derek is going to test my control with more...strenuous parameters,” Scott said, looking meaningfully at Stiles.

“What does that mean?” Stiles asked warily.

“It means I’m going to piss him off, attack him, whatever I can do to get a reaction,” Derek said, already circling Scott. “Stay away from this side of the clearing,” he warned him, gesturing in a wide arc around Stiles. 

“I will, dude.” And they began.

***

“How many times?” Scott bragged, polishing his knuckles on his shirt as they walked back to the Jeep in the late afternoon.

“23!” Stiles yelled, pointing both index fingers at Scott. “23 freaking times Derek said your heart rate rose but you stopped yourself from shifting! I thought for sure you were going to go when he sat on your chest and roared in your face.”

“Dude, me too!” Scott yelled back, and high-fived Stiles. 

Derek walked behind them, automatically monitoring the woods for any threat. He had to admit, he felt better. The strenuous physical exercise, the unbroken attention it took to do this work with Scott, the constant awareness of Stiles’ presence and Derek’s need to ensure his safety, it exhausted him in a good way. He felt a hell of a lot better than he had when he’d woken up that morning. 

And in that moment, he decided to tell the Sheriff about Kate.

Stiles drove them back to the Stilinski house, where Derek picked up his Camaro and drove Scott home. After a few more pointed warnings and bits of advice, he felt safe enough to let Scott be on his own with his mom and allowed him to exit the car alone. Then he drove to the police station and parked. He shut off the car and sat in silence for a minute, alone for the first time since he’d seen Stiles and Scott in the woods the day before. It felt like a hundred years had passed since then. 

Derek wanted to tell the Sheriff about Kate for a lot of reasons. He wanted her to pay for what she’d done (although he admitted to himself he’d always harbored a more teeth-and-claws version of retribution for her), but he also wanted to unburden himself. And he wanted the Sheriff to know the worst of him so he could...well, judge Derek if he wanted to. Throw Derek out of his house. Tell him he’d gotten his family killed. All the things Derek basically believed about himself. He respected Sheriff Stilinski. He’d known him since he was a kid, knew he was a good man and a good father. Stiles was a remarkable young guy. Smart, loyal, kind. Funny. Derek’s face broke into a small smile when he thought of Stiles flailing around, always cracking jokes, always putting the people around him at ease. He had a suspicion a lot of that was an act, a way for Stiles to deflect the larger emotions, to ignore them. But it was a pretty good act, and he was...well, he was nice to be around, Derek had to admit. 

Mind made up, he exited the car and walked into the station. 

***  
The Sheriff looked over at him and sighed. “Is that everything, then? Have you told me all of it?”

Derek nodded, looked at the floor. “Sorry I didn’t tell you before. I was...” he trailed off.

The Sheriff rose, came around the desk, sat on it in front of Derek’s chair. He leaned over and put his hand on Derek’s shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Derek looked away, clenching his jaw.

“It wasn’t, Derek. It wasn’t your fault. We’re going to find her, and we’re going to put her away for a very long time for what she did to your family. That won’t bring them back, and I’m sorry for that, but I can promise you she won’t get away with it. She will pay.”

Derek said nothing.

“Look, I know you’ve spent the day with a couple of teenagers, and those two are more idiotic than most, but I’m a hell of a lot older than you are and you should listen to me. I’ve heard the whole story now. If I thought you were even partially responsible for anything other than being a hormonally-addled teenager, I’d tell you. What you did is what normal kids do, Derek. You were a normal kid. What she did _was not normal_. And you could never have known she would do it. You could never have prepared for it, all right?”

Derek looked at him. He felt his insides cracking, crumpling. 

“Just-” The Sheriff sighed. “Keep talking to me, or Stiles, or somebody if not us. Keep talking to people. Keep letting people in. It’s the only way it gets better. Believe me, I know. If I’d done more of that when my wife died, I wouldn’t have put so much of the responsibility on Stiles. He will always feel responsible for me, and that kills me. I wish I could have been as mature as you’re being, sharing it with someone, letting it out of me and letting people in.”

Derek put his head in his hands. Neither spoke; the Sheriff thoughtfully ignored the muffled sniffling sounds coming from Derek’s vicinity. 

Finally, Derek raised his eyes. He looked at the Sheriff, who nodded back at him. “Go on back to the house. Make sure Scott hasn’t killed my son. I’ll be home later.” He rose, and Derek took that as his cue to leave. 

***

Stiles made turkey meatloaf for dinner. Derek sat across from him at the dining room table and they ate, Stiles talking and Derek listening mostly, occasionally grunting in the positive or negative. It was all...sort of quiet and domestic. Derek liked it. He felt calm. The deep undercurrent of sadness was always there, the pulse of _Laura Laura Laura_ under his skin that no one who wasn’t a werewolf could ever understand. Laura had been his older sister, his pack mate and then his Alpha, his touchstone when his whole world had been sucked into a vortex of pain. The absence of her was so big Derek just skirted around the edges of the hole left in his chest, letting Stiles do what he did, which was put people at ease. It was working. 

“Movie?” Stiles suggested after they’d cleared the table and stacked the dishes in the dishwasher. “I did my homework Friday night.”

Derek shrugged. They moved into the living room and sat down together on the couch. Stiles put on a political thriller and Derek half-watched it. The Sheriff came home in the middle of it and ate in front of the TV, Stiles catching him up on the parts he’d missed. No one seemed to mind that Derek didn’t really talk; Stiles filled a room easily and the Sheriff made up the difference.

After the Sheriff had gone to bed, Stiles turned to Derek and said, “I know there’s all this other stuff going on, but I just want you to know that I know you’re always thinking about your sister, and if you ever want to talk about her, you know, I’m here.” He reached over and hugged Derek, and Derek didn’t hesitate, hugged him back, feeling those lanky strong arms close around his neck and breathing in Stiles’ scent. Neither said anything. Stiles rose and moved to leave the room.

“Hey, Stiles.”

“Yeah?” 

“You’re in the pack.”

The smile Stiles gave him went straight through his heart like an arrow. Then he turned and went upstairs.

 _I’m glad I’m here,_ Derek thought. There were a lot worse places he could have landed.

That night, he actually slept.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is at school! Scott meets Allison! Lydia finally joins us! It’s all happening!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles POV. Scott meets Allison, bringing him into conflict with Derek. First line lacrosse tryouts ensue, and Scott is less of an idiot than we know he can be. Also, Stiles totally, totally does not have a crush on Derek. Totally. 
> 
> Then Derek’s POV. Full moon, confrontation with the hunters in the woods, Derek saves Scott again, and may or may not be feeling things he shouldn't be feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, it is so much easier for me to write Stiles’ POV than Derek’s. Stiles is all fizzy like popping candy, whereas Derek is dark molasses. I like both though, Derek is just harder to get right. 
> 
> We’ve got some vague sexual content (not together) in this chapter for the first time. A reminder that this story is listed as underage, and it really will be, especially with the age difference as I’ve written it. There are going to be inevitable issues with consent just by virtue of how much older Derek is - fair warning. These are fictional characters and I wouldn’t be okay with writing it as I am if they weren’t.

***

Stiles woke up Monday morning with the sense that something momentous was happening in his life, for the first time since...well, ever. Derek Hale was downstairs sleeping in his living room. Oh, and Derek was a werewolf. As was Stiles’ best friend in the world. His dad was on their side. They were going back to school after a weekend that seemed like it had lasted about five million years. There was the horrifying (and weirdly thrilling) frisson of danger that Scott might wolf out and kill, like, their chemistry teacher or somebody. But Derek would probably not let that happen.

Derek. Stiles had...complicated feelings about him. He couldn’t help but notice dude looked like an underwear model - he had eyes, after all. And the thing was, he _liked_ Derek. He liked how grumpy he was, how he protected Stiles, helped Scott. He was a friend ( _Pack mate!_ , Stiles mind supplied gleefully). And he felt horribly sorry for the guy. But it was weird, because he’d known him when he was a little kid and he didn’t have context for the newer brushes with adolescent lust he was experiencing in Derek’s presence. Derek was always touching him (usually shoving him up against something to save his life, but still), and Stiles’ body had noticed. He suspected there wasn’t a 16 year old in the world who wouldn’t notice Derek Hale touching them. And when he smiled... _Jesus._

Stiles looked down and noticed he had morning wood, like every other morning of his life. He thought briefly about doing something with it (steering his mind firmly away from the image flashes of leather jacket and worn denim and complicated eyebrows it was unhelpfully providing), but then realized Derek would probably be able to hear him (smell him? ugh) if he did. He sighed, pressing the heel of his hand firmly against his dick, until it subsided. Then he got up to take a shower. 

When he got downstairs, he found Derek and his dad sitting together at the dining room table, talking in low voices. Derek looked grumpy and sad, as usual. His dad looked sympathetic. They both broke off when Stiles entered the room.

“Hey, don’t let me interrupt,” Stiles said airily, waving a hand, as he walked over to the table and poured himself a bowl of Frosted Flakes. He smacked his father’s hand away from the box and pushed the low-sugar granola box at him instead. His dad sighed and complied. 

“Coming to the school today?” Stiles asked through a mouth full of cereal and milk.

Derek looked at him with a faintly disgusted expression. “Yeah, I’ll be around. Want to make sure Scott is okay.” 

The Sheriff nodded his approval and rose. “I have to go to work. Derek, I’m going to compile some photos I want you to look through, known suspects in similar arson cases, see if any of them look familiar. We’ll go through them tonight.” Derek nodded his thanks and the Sheriff turned to go, then looked back.

“Oh, hey, didn’t you say you worked at a mechanic’s in Seattle?” 

“Yeah.”

Stiles’ mind, TRAITOR THAT IT WAS, conjured up an image of Derek, shirtless, abs smeared with motor oil, light green eyes concentrating on screwing some part onto a motor. Stiles shifted a little in his seat. Derek shot him a look, and his nostrils flared.

 _Coach Greenberg naked, Coach Greenberg naked, Coach Greenberg naked_ , Stiles chanted silently. 

His father had continued talking. “- deputy knows somebody down there, want me to see if there are any openings?”

Derek looked surprised. “I have money, if you-”

Stiles’ dad cut him off. “That’s not it. I don’t want your money. I just thought, if you’re going to be around for a while, it’s probably going to take some time to figure all this out, and you might want to have a job in the meantime, maybe establish some ties back here. Anyway, think about it and let me know.” He shrugged, and left. 

Derek looked at Stiles. Stiles concentrated on his Frosted Flakes, now turning soggy in the milk.

“Stiles-”

“Gotta go, I’ll be late for school! See you there later!” Stiles squeaked, rising in a flail ( _so smooth_ , he thought) and bolting for the doorway. Derek sighed, and let him go.

***

Stiles was in mid-flow, walking through the school doors with Scott. “-and the thing about Derek is, he just needs to talk to somebody, dude is like the most emotionally constipated guy on earth, but I think - hey, Lydia - I think he and my dad are, like, bonding, and he’s definitely bonding with you and me, so-”

Scott stopped him by grabbing his arm. “Wait. What just happened?”

Stiles stopped too. “What? What happened?”

“Lydia Martin just passed us in the hall, and instead of putting all other thoughts aside and barraging her with some cheesy awkward horrible conversation starter, you basically ignored her.”

“I...huh. I didn’t really notice.” Stiles was surprised. He turned and watched Lydia pass down the hall, her strawberry blonde hair swinging against her back. He appreciated her perfection, as always, but his mind was elsewhere. 

Scott’s expression changed from confused to chagrined. “Oh, no. Oh, no no no, Stiles, no way, dude.”

“What?” Stiles asked. “What did I do?” 

“You have a crush on Derek.” Scott looked mostly annoyed, and a little bit sick. 

“I do not!” Stiles protested. _You totally, totally do. Shut up, mind!_

“You can’t have a crush on Derek, Stiles. I need him, and you’re going to make him go away with your...well, you know. The way you are when you have a crush. It’s...off-putting.”

“Hey, I’m not off-...and anyway, I don’t! I don’t have a crush on Derek. Definitely not. Definitely.” Stiles nodded with finality. They entered their classroom together, and sat down at adjacent desks. Stiles busied himself getting a pen and notebook out of his bag, then noticed Scott hadn’t moved. He was perfectly still in the way that Stiles was already learning was more...wolf-y than human. 

“Dude, what is it,” he whispered. Scott waved an impatient hand at him, cocking his head like he was listening to something. 

Then: “Class, I’d like to introduce a new student. This is Allison Argent,” called the vice-principal, and Stiles looked up to see a girl he didn’t know enter the room. She was pretty, with long dark hair and milky clear skin. He glanced over at Scott, and dude looked like he was about to pass out. He was staring at Allison like he was drowning and she’d offered him a life preserver. The puppy eyes were dialed up to eleven.

 _Jesus, I really hope I don’t look like that when I’m with Derek,_ Stiles thought, then slapped himself about the face mentally. _With Lydia! Lydia! Definitely Lydia. In conclusion: Lydia._

Allison chose the desk behind Scott, who turned and offered her a pen out of nowhere. Allison looked confused, but thanked Scott with an interested expression, and Stiles rolled his eyes. _My best friend has gone from being an asthmatic dweeb to freaking god’s gift to women. Fantastic._

Throughout the class, Scott and Allison exchanged glances, little smiles, and once, Stiles watched Allison stretch her hand out toward the back of Scott’s head, where the hair curled against his neck, then withdraw it. 

_Hoo boy. This is going to get complicated_ , Stiles thought.

And it did, right away, after class ended. When Stiles rose and turned to gather his books, he spotted Derek out of the corner of his eye, out the window. Derek was leaning against the Camaro at the back of the parking lot, and when Stiles caught his eye, Derek pointed at Stiles and then Scott and made a “come here” gesture with a grim expression on his face. 

“Come on,” Stiles muttered and grabbed Scott’s arm. Scott smiled dopily at Allison and allowed himself to be pulled out of the classroom and toward the door that led to the parking lot. 

“Did you see her?” Scott asked dreamily.

“Yeah, I saw her,” Stiles answered, hauling Scott along.

“She’s...like...she’s just so...” 

“Yeah. Saw that. She seems into you too.” Stiles was concentrating on getting Scott to Derek. 

“Do you think so?” Scott turned to Stiles with huge eyes. He looked so pathetically hopeful that Stiles punched him on the arm. 

“Yes, yours will be a love for the ages, I’m sure. Now come on, Derek wants us.”

They crossed the lot to where Derek was waiting. He immediately grabbed Scott’s arm and growled, “What was that?” 

“Heeey, Derek,” Stiles interjected, waving a little. _Stop waving all the time, you look like an idiot_. “How’s your day going?” 

Derek ignored him, focusing on Scott. “Your heart went crazy. I thought I was going to have to go in there and haul you out.” 

“No, I’m cool,” Scott answered with his biggest smile. “It was just...something else.”

“A girl,” Stiles supplied, and Scott shot him a dirty look.

Derek closed his eyes and sighed. “A girl,” he repeated flatly.

“Just - she’s new!” Scott said, already defensive. “I don’t even know her!” 

“But you want to,” Derek said.

Scott’s cheeks flushed pink.

“Right, look. You don’t have enough control over your wolf to even attempt this, not yet.” Derek was stern.

“But, what’s the point of me having to go through all this if my life doesn’t change at all?” Scott whined. “I’ve never gotten a girl I like to like me before, but now I have this amazing thing-”

“That you can’t tell her about,” Derek cut in.

“Yeah, but still! I can do amazing things, I can be...someone else.”

“Look, just wait a little while. Your new abilities will come in handy in lots of other ways.”

“Yeah, like lacrosse,” Stiles added.

“Lacrosse?” Derek asked, swinging his head back to Scott. 

“Yeah, it’s first-line tryouts this afternoon. What?” Scott asked, worried, because Derek was looking face-palm-y.

“Right. This is what you’re going to do.”

***

The whistle blew and Stiles sat on the bench chewing on a finger of one glove, worrying. Derek had spent the entire free period coaching Scott, and Stiles was cautiously hopeful that Scott wasn’t going to either shift and maul someone, or else do some crazy gymnastic move and totally let the wolf out of the bag. He was still fretting though. He turned his head slightly and looked at Derek, standing way back by the treeline. Derek nodded slightly at him, and Stiles felt better. He turned back to the field.

Scott was in goal. Stiles watched him closely as the first player shot the ball. Scott’s eyes followed the ball preternaturally fast, but his reaction was well within the range of normal human. He caught the ball before it went into the net, then sort of stumbled a little and had to grab the side of the goal cage to right himself.

Stiles snickered. “Nice touch,” he whispered, and saw Scott shoot him a grin through the goalie mask. The practice continued like that, with Scott saving goals but not with too much finesse or acrobatics. He let a few go through, too, including Jackson’s (Stiles hated that douche), which made Jackson smirk and high-five Danny obnoxiously. Scott narrowed his eyes but didn’t react. 

“Bilinski!” Coach shouted, and Stiles jumped. 

“Yeah Coach!” He stood up and flailed. 

“Go take a shot.”

“Yes Coach!” Stiles was thrilled; Finstock never let him on the field when anything important was going on. 

He lined up with the others, waiting his turn. He turned his head to the left and looked at Derek again. Derek stood motionless, arms crossed across his broad chest. 

_Right, Bilinski_ , he told himself. _Don’t make a fool out of yourself in front of...Lydia_ , he amended hastily, catching sight of the strawberry blonde hair in the stands. _Definitely Lydia_. 

When it was his turn, he caught the ball from the ref and looked at Scott. Scott inclined his head just slightly, and Stiles muttered, “Don’t make it too obvious,” then took off for the goal. 

He veered slightly to the right, angling his body, and then shot across himself into the left lower corner of the net. Scott launched himself across the goal, performing what looked like a heroic attempt, but Stiles’ ball just sneaked past him and landed cleanly in the net. 

“YES!” Stiles shouted, pumping a fist. He knew Scott had let the ball go through, but it was still a good shot, and he hadn’t made a fool out of himself. He thought a human goalie might have even missed the save. The crowd in the stands actually half-heartedly cheered for him. He saw Lydia looking at him, and he waved at her cheerfully.

“Nice one,” Danny said approvingly next to him. 

“Thanks!” Stiles replied, jubilant. He looked at Scott, who gave him a grin and a thumbs-up. 

Stiles turned to look at Derek. He was gone. 

***

Derek met them back at Stiles’ Jeep after practice. “Good work,” he said approvingly to Scott. 

“Thanks. I made first line! Just barely, but Coach said I improved a lot from last year. And Stiles is on the reserve list!” Scott punched Stiles on the arm in celebration. 

“Um, OW,” Stiles said crossly. “I’ll still never get to play.” He threw his gear into the back of the Jeep and slammed the door. 

“You might. It was a good shot you made.” Derek’s voice was neutral.

Stiles turned to look at Derek. “You saw?”

“Yeah.”

Stiles felt warm all over. He shrugged. “Scott let it go in.”

“Yeah, but if he wasn’t a werewolf, he wouldn’t have made the save.”

“You think?” Stiles felt a little bit needy asking, but being good at something athletic was new to him. He and Scott actually _had_ practiced, religiously, all summer, and Stiles suspected he’d improved. Hearing it from Derek was....well, it was really nice.

“Yeah,” Derek said, and actually smiled at him, a little half-smile, but still. Stiles called that a win. 

“Thanks,” he said softly, and leaned against Derek for a minute, doing their now-usual shoulder shove. Derek shoved him back, then turned to Scott.

“I saw the girl talking to you after practice.”

Scott looked down. “Yeah. Allison. She invited me to a party tonight.”

“You’re not going,” Derek said immediately. 

“You can’t tell me what to do! You’re not my dad,” Scott said, defensive. 

“Scott-” Stiles began.

“Stay out of this,” Derek ordered angrily, and Stiles fell silent. “Look, you made it through one lacrosse practice, one day at school. Do you really want to test your control on this girl? You don’t know what happens to your body when you...when you’re close to....it’s the full moon tonight! Are you crazy or stupid?” 

“What do you know,” Scott muttered, kicking the ground with the toe of his cleat. 

Derek sighed. “Believe me. I know.”

Stiles ignored the stab of jealousy he felt at the thought of Derek being...close to...someone, and concentrated on Scott. “Derek’s right, dude. What if you hurt her?”

“I could never hurt her!” Scott protested. 

“Yeah, well, I’d have thought you’d have said the same thing about me, you know, before you _tried to kill me_ ,” Stiles said wryly. 

Scott hung his head. 

“Just for now. Stay away from her. I’ll see you at the house later - be there by 8:30, before the moon rises.” Derek turned away, walking to the Camaro. 

“That dude thinks he’s in charge of me,” Scott griped. 

“He’s trying to help you, idiot,” Stiles said, exasperated. “And you know he can hear you!”

Stiles saw Derek give them the finger over his shoulder without looking at them as he got into the Camaro. 

“Come on, man. Look on the bright side! You’re first line! There’ll be another chance with Allison.” He patted Scott on the arm and got into the Jeep. 

***

“I don’t recognize any of them,” Derek said, paging through the photographs.

Stiles’ dad sighed. “Well, it was a long shot. We’ll keep trying.” He gripped Derek’s shoulder. “What time is Scott coming over?” he asked Stiles. 

“Should be soon,” Stiles said around the pen in his mouth. He saw Derek looking at him strangely. “What?” he asked. 

Derek shook his head, looked away. 

“You sure you and Scott will be all right out in the woods on your own tonight?” Stiles’ dad asked Derek with concern. 

Derek nodded. “It’ll be better. We can blow off steam without worrying about Scott’s control. It’s harder for all of us on the full moon. I’ll look after him.”

“I’m sure you will,” the Sheriff said, and leaned back in his chair. “Do we have any cookies in the house?”

“Not for you,” Stiles replied automatically, attention on his chemistry homework. 

“One cookie isn’t going to bring on an immediate heart attack, Stiles.”

“It’s never just one, though, is it? Addiction starts with the first cookie. Just say no, Dad. Just say no.”

Stiles’ dad sighed. “You see what I have to put up with?” he asked Derek. 

Derek snorted. Then his head turned toward the door. “Scott’s here.”

“I will never get used to that. It’s like having a bloodhound in the house,” Stiles mocked, then fell silent at his father’s frown. He loped over to the door and opened it for Scott, who was looking mutinous. 

“I could be at a party right now,” he grumbled to Stiles.

“Yeah, ripping the girl you love’s face off. So romantic. Come on, and stop being an asshole.”

***  
Derek followed Scott through the woods, near the clearing where they’d trained the day before. The night was clear and the light from the moon made the preserve almost as light as day. 

Derek felt the pull, the inevitable urge in the blood. He’d felt it all his life. It was easy to push back against that pull, to test his control. It almost felt good, like the way denying oneself something one really wanted could sometimes feel good.

“Let’s run. Go ahead and shift,” he said shortly to Scott, who was moping slightly about not being allowed to hang out with Allison, but Derek could see he was already getting over it, was starting to enjoy the feeling of being out in the cool night under his first full moon. Scott nodded, shooting him his first genuine grin of the evening, and shifted. Derek shifted himself, watching Scott carefully.

“Wow,” Scott said, muffled around his fangs. “It’s so much...more.”

“Yeah. The moon makes it really intense.” Derek was feeling the first stirring of the other things that went along with the full moon - the blood lust, and, well. The other kind of lust too. He shook his head, shaking off the feelings too. “Come on.” He took off into the woods. 

After a brutal run to blow off steam, he and Scott ended up deep in Hale territory, in woods Derek had been running through since was 10 years old. They were about a mile from the house - Derek could have tracked to it from a thousand miles away with his eyes closed. He veered to avoid it. Scott noticed, but said nothing. They slowed to a walk. 

“Should I try shifting back now?” Scott asked. 

Derek huffed. “Give it a shot.”

A few seconds passed. “Wow, it’s...hard.”

“This is your natural state, under a full moon. Not being in Beta form is denying what you are. But you can do it, if you really concentrate. Focus on your heart, your breathing.”

Scott stopped walking and closed his eyes. A minute later, he opened his eyes, back to his normal self. 

“The line between this form and...the other is really thin right now.”

Derek nodded. 

“Also, I’m, uh, feeling stuff. Is that normal?” 

“What kind of stuff?” Derek asked. 

Scott reddened and looked at his feet. “I’d really like to be with Allison right now, I can tell you that.” 

Derek snorted. “Would you really, though? With your wolf so close?”

“I guess not. You were right, man. Sorry I was a pain in the ass.” 

Derek shrugged. Then he added “Yeah, it’s normal. The urge to hunt is normal, too. Go ahead and see if you can find something to track. I’ll be around. Don’t leave the woods without me.”

Scott took off on all fours without another word, crashing through the undergrowth. _Stealth lessons next_ , Derek thought. He walked alone for a while, feeling the urges in his blood peak and fade in turns. It had been a long time since he’d...been with anyone. A couple of girls, a couple of guys in Seattle, nothing serious. His mind supplied flashing images out of context: the wet mouth of a guy he’d got a blowjob from in a service station restroom once, the delicate blue-veined skin on the inside wrist of a blond girl he’d been with a couple of times....soft, plush pink lips, always slightly open, long lean limbs....Derek jerked his mind back from that thought. NO. 

He listened for Scott automatically and instead heard something else. His stopped, standing perfectly still, for five seconds, and then took off sprinting through the woods in complete, deadly silence. 

_Hunters._

He neared Scott, who was being circled by the hunters and had no idea, judging by the amount of noise he was still making. He burst through the trees and saw the look of panic on Scott’s face before he tackled him to the ground. 

“What the-”

“Quiet,” Derek growled, holding him down with a clawed hand and scanning with all his senses. “Shit. Too late.”

“What is-”

“Hunters,” Derek grunted. “Run.”

He took off, knowing Scott would follow him. What he didn’t expect was Scott to trip over an exposed tree root right out in the open in a clearing ( _seriously, this kid_ ). He turned back immediately, trying to get to Scott to drag him to safety, but had to duck behind a tree as the hunters emerged into the clearing. 

They were led by a tall blond guy with light eyes. He looked familiar to Derek, somehow. There were three other guys with him, with guns. But the leader held a crossbow, loaded with an arrow that Derek recognized. 

“Scott, close your eyes,” Derek said under his breath, knowing Scott could hear him but the hunters couldn’t. The arrow fired, missed Scott, but exploded into a tree right next to him in a burst of blue-white light. Derek saw it through his closed eyelids and waited a second for it to dissipate, then immediately began circling around behind the hunters. He’d take out the three flunkies, then go for the leader. 

The crossbow fired again, and Derek watched Scott get pinned to a tree with an arrow through his arm. 

_Fuck fuck fuck_

The three other guys were easy to disarm and take out of the game, and Derek moved like the predator he was toward the leader. This guy was quick, though, and it took all of Derek’s skill and speed to sneak up on him so he could knock the crossbow out of his hand and whack him across the back of the head before he could draw his gun. Derek didn’t hesitate once he was down, just ran over to Scott and yanked the arrow out of his arm. 

“Come on,” he growled, and dragged Scott away. Scott came willingly, gasping for breath. 

They ran for miles, then slowed to a walk. The wound in Scott’s arm was already almost healed. 

“Shit!” Scott said. 

“Yeah.” Derek was grim. 

“They were hunting us just because we’re...I mean, we weren’t hurting anyone.” 

“Except that bunny you killed,” Derek said. 

Scott looked deeply embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to kill it! I just wanted to catch it, and then when I did...”

“Which is why I didn’t let you go to that party tonight.” 

“Jesus, those guys were seriously armed. And nuts!” 

“They’re vigilantes. They have a code - they’re not supposed to hurt us unless we hurt a human, or turn one with the bite. They shouldn’t be out here tonight.”

“Are you going to tell Stiles’ dad?”

“I’ll tell him, but I’m not sure there’s a lot he can do. There’s nothing in the local penal code about werewolf hunting. I got a good look at the leader, though,” Derek said thoughtfully. 

“Yeah, me too,” Scott said fervently. “When he _shot_ me with an _arrow_. Do you think those guys had anything to do with what happened to your sister?”

“Probably,” Derek said shortly. “Come on, the moon’s on the way down. We’re safe to go back now.”

***

They made their way back to the Camaro, and Derek drove them back to the Stilinski house. The Sheriff had gone to bed, but Stiles was waiting up for them, stretched out on the couch reading a book. 

“Hey, did you guys have - holy shit, what happened?” Stiles was looking at Scott’s ripped, bloody t-shirt. 

“Hunters,” Derek said briefly. 

“Fuck!” Stiles replied. 

“Yeah.”

“Are you all right?” Stiles asked Derek, moving to his side.

“Hey, I’m the one that got shot with an arrow!” Scott protested. 

Stiles snorted. “Did you heal?”

“Well, yeah,” Scott said. “But still! It hurt!” 

“Probably not as much as the mental pain Derek here is probably feeling seeing the guys who might have killed his sister,” Stiles pointed out. 

“I’m going home,” Scott grumbled. 

Derek scanned him, monitoring his heart rate, and Scott waited. After a minute Derek nodded once, and Scott grinned triumphantly. “I made it through my first full moon! And I only got shot once!” he crowed triumphantly. He held out a hand to high-five, and Derek just looked at him. Scott’s face fell. “Man, we need a pack handshake or something.” He turned and left.

“Are you all right?” Stiles asked again, once Scott was gone.

Derek looked at him. Stiles’ face was flushed with what looked like anger. The color was high on his cheeks. Derek felt the stirring again...and tamped it down brutally again.

“Go to bed. It’s late, you have school tomorrow.” 

Stiles dropped the hand that had been reaching for Derek’s arm. “Hug?” he asked hopefully.

“Not tonight,” Derek growled. 

And Stiles went upstairs.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I listened to [Robyn’s version of “Cobrastyle”](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iefllEdn8SM) (a different version of the song playing in the show when Scott is doing first-line lacrosse tryouts) on endless repeat while writing this chapter. Completely irrelevant information, but there you are! A glimpse into my “process”. (Hint: I have no process.)
> 
> Next chapter: The bus driver is attacked! The three amigos investigate! Deaton joins us! (Hi, Deaton, hi!) And Derek thinks the Alpha’s scent seems familiar, somehow...


End file.
